


Bonnie, Clyde, and the College Guy

by R_chimchim, S_taetae



Category: GOT7
Genre: Age Swap, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, College, Cons, Crude, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Hardcore Sex, Humor, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Sorry, Kinks, M/M, Multi, Police, Polyamory, Polygamy, This is gonna be a rollercoaster, Threesome - M/M/M, You Have Been Warned, bonnie and clyde au, collegekid!mark, conboy!bambam, everyone is in this story we made sure of that, everyone will eventually be here, hacker!jackson, hackson hehe, she made me do it, there is a shitload of curse words, vulgar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-11-01 14:00:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 99,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10923276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/R_chimchim/pseuds/R_chimchim, https://archiveofourown.org/users/S_taetae/pseuds/S_taetae
Summary: Everything always went according to Bambam and Jackson's plans, until that one time when it didn't.(Or, alternatively, Bambam never makes mistakes, but this time he let it slip for the cute college kid.)(Or, alternatively x2, It had always been Bambam and Jackson against the world, but Mark is tiny and can fit anywhere.)|Arabic translation|





	1. i. French Chardonnay

**Author's Note:**

> Caution! A lot of curse words and bad smut ahead!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bambam just can't resist

“Suck it!”

“Maybe after we’re done.”

“You’re such an asshole sometimes, Jackson.” Bambam whispered, clearing his throat then shooting the woman he just passed by a seductive smile.

“Now, now, you know my name is Jeff.” The older humorously said into his ear, the static of the earpiece distorting his voice a little. Bambam sighed, partly because Jackson was distracting him, and partly because he knew that they should probably buy some new equipment, but that would require them to call their supplier, and it would not fit into Bambam’s perfected schedule; they’re gonna have to wait till they relocate. He fixed the Bluetooth device that he uses as a distraction, because he didn’t wanna look like he’s a crazy guy talking to himself, and continued strolling through the venue.

“ _Jeff,_ ” Bambam stressed. “You don’t have to keep repeating that phrase.” He fixed the mini-cam installed into his favorite [Chanel](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/C78mbVsUwAE_njY.jpg:orig) pin.

“But don’t you get it? _22 Jump Street?_ The scene with the Mexican cartel and the octopus?” Jackson probably had a sugar rush from all the redbull he surely drank to stay awake for the “mission”.

“Did you seriously pick that stupid name just for the sake of saying that phrase?” Bambam picked up a flute of champagne as his eyes scanned the place for his target. He took a sip, his glossed lips leaving a light pink tinge on the side of the flute.

“Let’s not talk about names, Bam. I mean, you picked Boonè. What’s up with that?” Jackson scoffed.

“Because I’m your blessing, babe.”

“Huh? I mean, you are, but like, what does that have to do with the name?” Jackson was so confused.

“Have you been smoking?” Bambam asked, noticing how Jackson was a bit out of it.

“No,” Jackson tried, but he knew better than to lie to his boyfriend. “Well, just like quarter of a joint.”

“Jia-er,” Bambam was serious now. “You better have the house ventilated by the time I get back, or so help me God, I will kick you out.”

“Don’t worry, baby. Everything’s under control.” Jackson rushed to add.

“Now hush and let me work. You’re distracting me.” Bambam couldn’t find his target anywhere, so he climbed the stairs leading to the second floor, his eyes scanning the room thoroughly.

“Okay, I’ll shut up.” Jackson didn’t even put up a fight.

“No,” Bambam complained directly. “I like your voice in my ear when I’m working, just read me the plan again.”

“From the top?” Jackson offered, voice soft.

“Yes, please.”

“Location: Chicago, Illinois, Black Economic Advancement Conference.

Description: The First Annual Black Economic Advancement Conference BEACN, Networking Event, a business conference focused on empowering African American business owners, under the patronage of Kenneth Walsh, the minister of Economy and Internal Affairs.

Target: Kim Yugyeom, 32 years of age.

Position: CEO of The Vanguard Group

Description: Tall, big nose, raven-black hair.

Nationality: South Korean

Status: Married. 2 children. Well known cheater.

Important note: Hella fucking rich.

Weaknesses: wrists, behind left ear, and neck. Likes the term of endearment “Sugar”

Man, rich people are so fucking weird and kinky.

Goal: Gold card, not the black one. Money from an over-shore swiss bank account under the name of “Kris Young”, bank account number 765980.

Cereal, bottles of water, snacks, wait- That’s our grocery list. Why’s it written here?” As Jackson read off the plan to Bambam, the younger had already located his target, and was slowly advancing towards him.

“How did you get all those details? I mean this is some pretty thorough shit.” Jackson asked his boyfriend, probably watching him through the security cameras he had hacked.

“Secrets of the trade, baby.” Bambam simply said, but then he raised his hand instinctively and touched his cross earring, which was a sign that he found who he was looking for.

“Have you located the target?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know what you have to say?”

“I didn’t spend the past week studying three economics textbooks for joy reading.” Bambam huffed and he probably rolled his eyes.

“I’m gonna stop talking now and let you do your job. I’m always here when you need me, baby. I love you.” Jackson said, settling back into his chair, his eyes following his boyfriend’s figure through his screen.

“I love you too.” Bambam whispered.

“Remember the phrases, Poughkeepsie means drop everything and run, and Funky Town means that he’s onto us, we’ll come up with others later.” Jackson said in a rush, but Bambam was too close to the target to comment, so he just faked some conversation and then pretended to hang up so he could remove the Bluetooth device.

“Sorry, that was my assistant.” Bambam said to the tall guy in front of him. Kim Yugyeom was a man with a baby face, a bowl-cut, and a wide smile. Bambam noticed that when he saw him approaching, he excused himself from the two older men he was standing with and pretended to be interested in his glass of whiskey.

“No worries,” Yugyeom smiled, extending a hand between them. “Kim Yugyeom.”

“Boonè Richards.” Bambam smiled seductively, then he took the older man’s hand in his, and he made sure that his long, slender fingers brushed the inside of Yugyeom’s wrist.

The other man smiled weakly, obviously getting affected by Bambam’s touch. “Is that French?”

“Oui, my mother was a little French woman. She gave me this name because I was her little gift from heaven.” Bambam skillfully replied, brushing his platinum blonde hair out of his eyes, and fixing the cuffs on his expensive looking suit.

“Interesting.” Yugyeom smirked, his hand slowly reaching out to touch Bambam’s arm.

“Baby, you got him riled up.” Jackson’s voice said for only Bambam’s ears to hear. Bambam smiled at the comment, and resumed his act.

“So Boonè means gift?” Yugyeom thought he was being slick

“Blessing,” Bambam tried to be nice. “It means blessing.”

“I guess you really were.” The older man laughed, sipping from his drink, his gaze intense on Bambam

“So, what do you think about what the minister said? More taxes? I mean, how could people start or continue their business if the annual income tax keeps getting higher?” Bambam tried to appeal to the man by sounding smart.

“I don’t care.” Yugyeom said.

“Excuse me?” What an asshole.

“I mean, I was forced to come to this conference by my board of directors, something about image and investors and whatnot. I’m more interested, however, in you. Where did that sexy accented English come from?” The other man said, subtly touching Bambam anywhere he could reach.

Bambam cursed his life; he had spent nights reading up economic college textbooks! Elastic demand haunted his dreams. Seriously, how can something be increasing in a decreasing manner? Fuck that rich man and his horny self.

“I was born in the Philippines. My father was a business owner, and when he left us, my mother moved us back to France, and changed my last name, that’s why I look Asian but I have a French name.” Bambam was getting impatient. When he finished his explanation, he started walking towards the make-shift mini-bar, the other man hot on his trails.

“That explains the beauty, then.” Yugyeom smiled, ordering another drink for himself.

“That’s very kind of you, sir.” Bambam faked embarrassment.

“Woah, cringeworthy.” Jackson’s voice echoed in his ear.

For the next 30 minutes, Bambam kept ordering drinks for the older man, and sip after sip, Yugyeom was losing his touch with reality.

When Bambam was sure that Yugyeom was drunk enough, he pretended to touch him up, but in reality, he only sneaked his wallet out of his pocket and transferred it to his own. Yugyeom, however, had other plans. He discreetly put his face closer to Bambam’s, pretending to whisper something in his ear, but he only nibbled at his earlobe. At that, Jackson gagged and Bambam let out a little flirty giggle, then excused himself to go to the bathroom. Once there, Bambam was quick to take out the gold card and scan it using his phone.

“You got it?” He asked Jackson.

“Yeah, I have it, baby. And I just accessed his bank account.” Jackson was, after all, a computer whizz.

“See you when I get home, babe.” Bambam giggled, taking a hundred-dollar bill from Yugyeom’s wallet and stuffing it in his pocket. Might as well buy that grocery list on his way back home; maybe some wine and cheese strings. Jackson loved cheese strings when he was stoned.

When he got back to the bar, Yugyeom was telling the bartender how whiskey made his face feel funny. After a couple of tries, Bambam managed to get Yugyeom out of the conference, and into a cab he hailed.

“Let’s get you home, shall we?” Bambam caressed the older man’s face.

“Tell the driver to go to the Four Seasons.” Yugyeom giggled, his face pressed in the crook of Bambam’s neck. Bambam was confused for a second, but he had to get his address. He needed that souvenir.

“So, you live at the Four Seasons?” Bambam casually asked, letting Yugyeom kiss his neck.

“Oh, no. I have a townhouse, but hush, that’s a secret; my wife can’t find out.” Yugyeom giggled, as if telling Bambam a secret.

“Oh, really, and where is that townhouse? Maybe I’ll pay you a visit someday.” Bambam left a kiss behind Yugyeom’s left ear, where he knows he is weak.

“It’s on Dearborn street, downtown. Very nice place. No one knows about it, so you have to keep it a secret.” Yugyeom whispered.

"Don't worry, sugar, it's between you and me." Bambam latched his fingers onto Yugyeom's wrist.

"Okay, I'm searching for it now," Jackson said, and Bambam could hear the sound of fingers furiously hitting the keyboard buttons. "Here we are, I found two places owned by two young men, but- oh wait a minute. He used the same name under that of the bank account, how stupid. Okay, townhouse under the name of Kris Young. I'll text you the address right now." 

The cab drive was silent, with Yugyeom kissing Bambam anywhere he could reach, and Jackson dirty talking Bambam so he wouldn't throw up from the stinging smell of the heavy wood bark cologne Yugyeom had practically drowned himself in.

When they got to the hotel, a man dressed in a black suit walked the pair up to a suite, obviously, this was where Yugyeom took all his "friends". The moment the two men walked into the room, Yugyeom attacked Bambam's lips, and the younger man tried his best not to push him away. Instead, he forced himself to kiss him back, and he walked him until he was sprawled on the bed. 

"I'm gonna get you a drink so you could relax a bit." Bambam said, giving the other man a kiss behind his ear. Yugyeom half moaned half groaned in response, and Bambam walked to where different bottles of whiskey were set up. Once he poured some in a glass, he reached into the inside of his tuxedo jacket and pulled out the small bag of pills he always keeps with him just in case. He took out one of the pills and dropped it in the drink, stirring it in with his pinky. Once it had completely dissolved, he strolled back to where Yugyeom was getting undressed on the bed.

Still in his dress pants, and his shirt only halfway open, Yugyeom gladly accepted the drink from Bambam's hand and downed it all in three sips. A couple of moments later he was out like a light. Bambam took hold of Yugyeom's phone, and searched for the head of Yugyeom's security, a guy under the name of Jiwoo. Bambam texted him directly to remove all the security guards from the townhouse because Yugyeom was expecting a guest.

Jiwoo tried to protest but Bambam simply texted "that's an order" and he got a confirmation. 

Before he left, Bambam grabbed the white handkerchief that was in Yugyeom's front pocket and scribbled on it a note before he applied some of the pink lipgloss he always kept on him, and left a kiss mark under the note- his very own signature.

 

_It's between you and me, sugar xo_

 

Bambam took a cab to the address Jackson texted him, well, two blocks away from the address. He gave Jackson the time to hack into the security system and control the surveillance cameras. Once he got to the gate of the townhouse, it buzzed open for him.

"After you, darling." Jackson said and Bambam strolled in, careful not to make any noise in fear of neighbors or any passerby. 

"Jacks, I have 15 steps to the front door, which gives you 15 seconds to disable the alarm. Starting now." Bambam said slowly, putting on his silk black gloves, then he started counting down his steps.

"15 seconds, boy, you are demanding." Jackson was typing furiously into his keyboard, just like he always does.

"3, 2, 1," Bambam reached the front door and pulled out his lock-picking gear. "Zero." 

"Done. You're safe to start." Jackson sounded proud.

Bambam inserted the two thin metal pins and in no time, he had the door swinging open for him.

"I'm gonna treat you real good tonight, baby." Bambam chuckled as he strolled into the lavish looking house, eyes scanning for something worthy of being his souvenir. Since he and Jackson started doing this, Bambam always had a nick for collecting one souvenir from each person he scams. It gives him a sense of accomplishment. 

"Babe, come on, I want you back home, just pick anything." Jackson nagged, getting impatient and probably a little horny.

"Patience, grasshopper." Bambam laughed, entering what looked like the master bedroom.

On the right, there was a huge bed with silk sheets, and on the left there was a sitting area, and that's where something caught Bambam's eyes.

On the center mahogany table, a box of cigars sat next to a crystal ashtray which was lined with gemstones. 

Bambam picked up the ashtray, stuffing it in his pocket, and then inspected the cigars.

"Hmm, French." 

When the box was secured in his hand, Bambam's eyes settled on the picture frame above the bed.

"Jacks, look." He adjusted his mini-cam so Jackson could see.

"Is that a picture of him naked under a fur blanket?" Jackson asked and Bambam giggled. "That's disgusting. I want one." 

Bambam laughed even more at his boyfriend, and as he was turning to leave, the cabinet filled to the brim with wine bottle beckoned him towards it, and Bambam was not one to resist. His gloved hands opened the cabinet slowly and randomly selected a bottle of wine.

"Chardonnay. Don't mind if I do." He giggled, and finally made his way out of the house and back to the main road where he hailed a cab to go back home. 

He did, however, make a quick pit stop at the supermarket to buy the things on his grocery list, thanks to the generous donation of Mr. Kim Yugyeom.

At quarter past two in the morning, Bambam opened the door to his rented house and was greeted by a loving kiss from his boyfriend.

"Good job today, Bonnie." Jackson kissed his boyfriend's temple as he helped him with the bags of groceries. 

“For the millionth time, Jacks, I’m Clyde and you’re Bonnie.” Bambam argued, leaning against his boyfriend anyway.

“But Bonnie is the pretty one, so you should be Bonnie.” Jackson scoffed.

“Let’s settle this once and for all.” Bambam decided, putting his fist between them and got ready for a real fight. So, they settled it the mature way, like they settle all their important decisions, like what meal to eat or what house to rent: rock paper scissors. Jackson lets Bambam win most of the time- except when he is craving angry sex so he does his best to piss his boyfriend off, or at times like these when he really, really wants to be Clyde.

Jackson did end up being Clyde which left Bambam with Bonnie. He sulked about it for almost 2 whole minutes, but there’s nothing Jackson’s kisses can’t fix.

"I got you wine, French cigars, and cheese strings." Bambam snaked his arms around his boyfriend's waist, kissing his bare chest.

"Hmm, I can't wait to taste that wine off your lips." Jackson's hand slid down to squeeze the younger's ass as his lips attached themselves to Bambam's yet again.  

"I have to take a shower first. His scent is still lingering on me." Bambam slowly detached himself from Jackson's arms before he walked to their room where he placed the ashtray he got in the box with all the other souvenirs. He carefully removed his equipment, the ear device and the mini-cam, placing them in their boxes, then he walked into the bathroom to take a scalding hot shower and scrub the musk of the other man off his skin. 

When he was satisfied enough, Bambam got out of the shower, dried his hair, put on his sexy black-lace lingerie under a silky black robe, and walked out to the patio in his fur Gucci slippers.

Jackson had already set everything up; the wine bottle, the cigars, and of course, his beloved cheese strings. 

Bambam settled on his boyfriend's lap, wine glass in one hand while the other traced Jackson's chest and abs. 

"So how did we do today?" Bambam asked, dropping lazy kisses on Jackson's collarbone.

"$300,000 transferred to the temporary account and then to our 4 different ones. All traces of what happened tonight erased and gone forever." Jackson updated, his hand running up and down Bambam's exposed thighs.

"Why did you take 300?" Bambam asked, shivering as a gush of wind touched his skin.

"I like odd numbers." Jackson simply replied, pulling Bambam into a deep kiss.

"This guy today was extra annoying. His voice was too screechy. And I didn't like the sound of his lips on yours." Jackson complained as Bambam removed the wine glasses from their hands, and climbed onto Jackson's lap properly, with each leg at one side.

"Neither did I, baby, but all i was hearing was your voice in my ear telling me to hurry home so you could fuck me into the mattress." Bambam murmured, sucking and biting on the spot under Jackson's ear. 

"I'll fuck you real good tonight, darling. Until my name is everything you could say." Jackson's hands were under Bambam's silk robe, running circles on his lower back, and kneading his ass.

After nearly 23 years together, ever since they were just two kids, the couple know every little detail about each other. Jackson knows exactly what pushes Bambam's buttons and makes him break; and he uses that to his full advantage. With Bambam's mouth back on his, Jackson grabbed Bambam's hips and rolled his own under them, until their crotches rubbed against each other- the material of Bambam's lace lingerie against the cotton on Jackson's sweatpants. Bambam let a moan rumble lowly from his throat, mouth still attached to Jackson's as the older kissed him deep and thorough- lips, tongue, and teeth.

The younger tasted sweet, like warm wine and mint probably from his mouth wash. It drove Jackson insane, and he drove his tongue deeper into Bambam's mouth so he could taste him more.

They made out languidly for a long while, hands careful and soft, because one wrong move and Jackson would be fucking Bambam bent over the very couch they were sitting on (not that he minded, but he enjoyed the sweet kisses he was getting). 

Suddenly, Bambam remembered something Jackson had said to him while he was on the mission, so he pulled back, and looked at his boyfriend's confused face.

"Why'd you stop?" Jackson asked, wanting nothing more than to have Bambam's mouth back on his.

"What were those phrases you told me tonight? Something about a town or something." Bambam asked. Jackson wasn't paying attention, instead, his hands were now under Bambam's underwear, squeezing the soft flesh. 

"Jackson." 

"Remember _Supernatural_? The show I watch?" Jackson asked and Bambam nodded.

"Yeah, so the brothers have these secret phrases to say if they were ever in a situation where they can't just speak out loud. So for example, Poughkeepsie means drop everything and run, and Funky Town means that there's a gun to my head, but like we can use it as "he's onto us" or something. There are more phrases, we'll work on them later." Jackson explained, leaving open-mouthed kisses over Bambam's chest.

"You're such a dork." Bambam stated, looking lovingly at his boyfriend.

"And you're my sexy baby," Jackson said. It was cheesy, really, but Bambam didn't mind one bit. "Now come back here let me kiss you." 

"It's 3am, Jackson-ah. We have to go to bed. Our flight is at 12." Bambam pushed Jackson's shoulders back and stood up.

"But we didn’t get to eat the cheese strings!" Jackson complained, making grabby hands at Bambam.

"You’ll eat them later. We have to get some rest now." Bambam rolled his eyes.

"But I can't wait till later." Jackson nagged.

"Yes, you can. It’s either sex with me or your cheese strings. Take your pick." Bambam crossed his arms over his chest.

“Hm, I have to think about that.” Jackson pretended to be thinking.

“That’s it, you’re sleeping outside tonight.” Bambam huffed and turned around, trying to close the heavy patio door.

"Damn, baby, why do you have to be so evil?" Jackson widened his eyes but got up and reached Bambam before the younger could close the door. Jackson was stronger and faster, despite Bambam’s long legs.

“I guess the cheese strings are gonna have to wait.” Jackson grabbed his boyfriend and hauled him on his shoulder, almost hitting Bambam’s head on the door of their bedroom.

Jackson stayed true to his word. He fucked Bambam with deep, quick thrusts until the younger came undone beneath him. After they came down from their highs, still sticky and sweaty and the only type of dirty that Bambam doesn’t mind, the couple crawled under the sheets of yet another temporary bed. 

"How's everything gonna go tomorrow?" Jackson asked, pulling the younger boy so he could climb onto his chest, and latch onto him like a baby koala, just like he always did- it was bound to break Jackson’s ribs or back someday, but he doesn’t mind, not as long as his Bammie is getting his rest. Jackson kissed Bambam’s sweaty head yet again and waited for an answer.  

"We'll leave to the airport when Jaebum's men get here. They will take all of our stuff and transfer them to one of his warehouses in L.A. When we get to LAX, one of his men will meet us there with our new passports and a car. He's gonna take care of deleting Boonè Richards and Jeff Compton from existence. We're gonna stay at the Hilton for one night only; it would give us enough time for me to change my looks and get our story down. We might also need new equipment from Jaebum. The day after, we'll meet the real estate agent so we could rent a house, and then we'll carry on with our lives." Bambam explained the plan that he had set down to the last detail; from the names of Jaebum's men, to what they're gonna wear when they meet the real estate agent.

"Sounds easy," Jackson said, dropping yet another kiss on Bambam's blonde hair. "Get some sleep, love. Tomorrow we're gonna start our new life." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to Kim Taehyung at the mention of the fur Gucci slippers. (Also Lee Taemin!)


	2. ii. Cheese Strings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> life was never easy for Jackson and Bambam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning! You might cry and your heart might ache

_New York,  January, 1990_

It was a harsh winter. The weather forecasts had warned that it would snow, but there was nothing to prepare the people of New York for the severe downfall in the temperature and the floods of rain that didn’t seem to stop coming down from the grey sky. Sheets of white covered the streets for days on end, making it hard for everyone to commute from place to place.

Vivian rolled to her side, her drowsy eyes slowly blinking open. She thought she had heard crying, but as she listened closely, she noticed that no sounds were coming from the other rooms. Sleep had already left her body- she had always been a very light sleeper- so she rolled out of bed, and made her way to check on the children in the other rooms. As she was making her rounds, a heavy knock sounded on the front door. Vivian was shocked; who would it be at such a late hour? She quickly made her way down the stairs, careful not to wake any of the kids up. By the time she reached the front door, the knocking had intensified, fists rapping the door in loud, quick hits.

Vivian quickly unlocked the door and ripped it open, to reveal a woman, soaked and crying, words leaving her mouth in a foreign language that Vivian did not understand. Rain was pelting hard all around her, so in a rush, the woman shoved a bundle of blankets into Vivian’s arms. Inside, Vivian saw a baby, no older than a week, soaked wet, and its lips were blue from the cold.

The woman kept crying, repeating the same sentence over and over again, and when she made sure that the child was secured in Vivian’s arms, she took off running, ignoring Vivian’s screams for her to stop.

 _“Help Jia-er”_ it rung in Vivian’s ears like church bells, bouncing against her skull.

A strike of lightening lit the sky in shades of white and silver, and in her peripheral view, Vivian could see the overhead sign that glimmered as the rain and the light hit it.

_“Miss Vivian’s Home for Orphaned Children”_

Vivian had no time to understand what had happened, because the child in her arms was cold as ice, lips blue, and breaths coming out in short gasps.

She ran to the living room, calling for James, the eldest kid at her home, begging him to start the fireplace, while she worked to strip the baby from the wet clothes that clung to its tiny frame. Under her breath, she repeated some prayers like a mantra, hoping to God that the small boy would make it out alive.

Some kids came running to her when they heard the commotion, arms filled with towels and blankets and anything they could get their hands on. Vivian quickly dried the baby off, dressing him up with warm clothes the kids had given her, and when the fireplace was producing red and orange flames, she brought the baby closer to the source of heat. It took a while, but by some miracle, the baby warmed up, and in no time, he started crying. To the children, it was annoying, but to Vivian it was reassuring. The baby was alive, and she had to do her best to keep him that way.

After a warm bottle of milk and a little more heat, the baby finally settled down, falling into a deep slumber.

“So, what’s his name, Miss Vivian?” One of the kids asked.

Vivian thought about it for a while, the voice of his mother ringing in her head. “I guess it’s Jia-er.” She finally decided.

“It sounds weird, Miss,” Another kid commented. “Is it Chinese?”

“Maybe,” Vivian said. “We can change it if you like. He doesn’t have legal papers anyway.”

“No, you should keep it the same. What if someday his mother came back for him? She has to find him by his name!” One of the little ones said, peering from over Vivian’s shoulder to have a look at the sleeping baby in her arms.

“Hm, you’re right. Jia-er it is, then,” Vivian hummed in agreement. “Now off to bed. It’s very late, and you all have to get up early for breakfast then school! We’re going to learn geometry tomorrow.”

The kids grumbled and complained, but they shuffled back to their shared rooms to get what they could of sleep.

Vivian stayed with the baby next to the fireplace the rest of the night, shushing him when he was about to cry, and singing him lullabies. The next morning, she carried on with the routine as if nothing had happened, except the constant baby crying, of course.

\-----

Vivian Atkinson was a nice woman in her mid-forties. Life had not always been nice to her, as she lost her husband in a car accident after only 3 years of marriage. After his death, she vowed never to marry again, but she became lonely, and needed a child to keep her company. Instead of adopting one, however, she decided to start an orphanage. It was such an absurd idea, but Vivian was a woman with a big heart, so after almost a year of paperwork and legalities, Miss Vivian’s Home for Orphaned Children was finally up and running.

Generous people donated money and goods for the orphanage, and friends of Vivian helped her from time to time. Now, she had 10 children, and with the new addition, they became 11. The eldest, James, was 16, and the youngest, Jia-er was only a week or two old.

Vivian had an honest organization, providing food, shelter, and homeschooling for the unfortunate children. She took care of them and raised them into fully functional members of the society.

That was her purpose.

 

It took Jia-er quite some time to get used to the orphanage. It was loud and boisterous most of the time, and the little child seemed scared by the constant noise, but as he grew older, he was able to adapt and soon enough, he was smiling.

At the age of 18, James was forced to leave the system, being a legal adult. One of Vivian’s friends gave him a job, and a small room to stay in, and it was enough for him. As for the others, however, adoption rates were low; only 3 kids out of the 11 got adopted in nearly 4 years, Jia-er not being one of them. People who considered Jia-er as a child to adopt always complained about how he was too much. Too quiet or too loud, too angry or too calm, too active or too lazy; he never seemed to find the ground, he was always too something. Vivian always assured the little 4-year-old that he was okay and that someday someone will love him and give him home.

His home, however, was not made of walls and floors, but it was made of flesh and bones.

Three-year-old Kunpimook was brought to Miss Vivian’s home after his mother was caught shoplifting a store nearby. After the police put the mother in custody, they found out that she was an illegal alien and she was sentenced to jail before being deported. Her child however, had no next-of-kin, or anyone to take him in, so the police brought him to Miss Vivian’s, promising her and the crying child that his mother would return for him before leaving the country.

But she never came back.

Kunpimook’s mother was a godless woman. After getting pregnant at the age of only 20 years, and because she had no idea who the father was, she decided to leave Thailand and move somewhere else. With the help of some friends, she was able to secure a commute to the United States. It was mostly illegal, but after weeks of travel, she found herself in New York, cooped up with her growing belly in a homeless shelter on the outskirts of town. She tried to get an abortion, but no doctor accepted to abort an illegal alien, later, it was too late. She gave birth in a public bathroom, screaming her lungs out until someone contacted the paramedics and she was taken to a clinic.

After that, with a little child on her arms and nothing but the clothes on her back, the 21-year-old kept moving from shelter to shelter, until she found herself in a motel room, getting paid $50 an hour. Instead of using the money to raise her child, the so-called mother used them all on alcohol and cigarettes, losing herself even more, and leaving her child to grow on one meal a day. At times, when “business” wasn’t going well, Kunpimook’s mother put him to good use, carrying him around the streets, begging for money by appealing to people’s sympathy.

It wasn’t easy for him. When he needed love, all he got was a stuffed koala toy but no other form of attention. But when he was given attention, it came in forms of slaps and cigarette butts being put out on the soft skin of his wrists and thighs, occasionally, a few cuts and bruises. Kunpimook’s mother made him believe that that was what love looked like: rough and unyielding; downright abusive. He was three years old, he could not have known better. The moving continued, with no constant roofs above their heads, with beds made out of trash bags, cardboards, or even, at times, the stone pavements of the streets.

No one cared enough to save the child from the life of misery, not until his mother was caught by the police, and he was dumped in the arms of a woman who had 6 other children to take care of, with nothing but a toy in his tiny hands. All the police could get from his mother was his name, which he hates, and the date of his birth. Other than that, Kunpimook was no one in the eyes of the law.

When Kunpimook was brought to the orphanage, all bones and pale skin, Jia-er was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Maybe because he was the only child who was close to his age, or maybe because he had impossibly round, brown eyes that enticed Jia-er to no end. Whatever it was, Jia-er turned out to be the only person who could calm Kunpimook down. Kunpimook held on to Jia-er like a koala bear held on to its mother, both arms and legs, when they were sleeping, and even when there were other people around. It scared Miss Vivian at first, but then she saw how both kids were a little less sad. The two children, like the opposite magnetic poles, were attracted to each other, and held together by a force that no one -and nothing- could break.

The universe did them a favor, somehow, in a very sad sense; neither of them were adopted. Jia-er was still too much, and no one wanted a scarred (in all senses of the word) Thai kid.

For the first year or so, it was hard for the two children to communicate, because Jia-er only knew how to speak rapid-fire English, while little Kunpimook only knew a few words in Thai and nothing else. It took a couple of sleepless nights, and a lot of patience, but eventually the younger picked up on the English language, finally being able to say what he wants, and for the first time in his life, someone actually listened. Miss Vivian was good to both of them, tending to their needs, and doing everything in her power to keep them together.

That life, no matter how safe it may be, was never enough for the little pair. Although together, they were still alone; the other kids at the orphanage did not like to spend time with the pair, maybe because of the age gap, or the obvious difference in looks, but the two younger kids were always alone- together. They didn’t mind, instead, they grew closer; sharing the same bed and the same clothes, and they created their own little world within the walls of Miss Vivian’s home.

“Jia-er.” Kunpimook once whispered to his friend, poking him in the ribs. It was a quiet night, and for some reason, the young boy was restless.

“Hmm.” The older cracked his eyes open, casting a look at the other boy.

Five-year-old Kunpimook bit his lower lip, and looked like he was in deep thought. “Jia-er, I don’t like my name.”

Jia-er stared at the younger and then said, “Me neither.”

Kunpimook’s eyes lit up. “Can we pick different names?” He asked.

“Sure,” Jia-er said, smiling. “You can choose whatever you want.”

Kunpimook kept thinking for over 10 minutes, weighing the pros and cons of the options he had in his tiny 5-year-old head. Then finally he decided.

“I want my name to be Bambam.” He grinned, obviously very proud of his choice, pointing at his toy. It was the name written on the back of his stuffed koala.

“Bambam,” Jia-er tested the name on his tongue. “I like it. It’s pretty like you.”

Kunpimook, or Bambam, giggled, hiding his face in his hands.

“Now choose mine.” Jia-er told him, sitting up and waiting for his new name to tumble out of the younger’s mouth.

“Your name should be Jackson.” Bambam whispered, clinging to Jia-er’s arm.

“Why?” The older was confused by the fast answer he was given.

“Remember the story Miss Vivian told us during story time? About the prince who saved the kingdom?” Bambam asked, eyes wide, and Jia-er nodded. “His name was Jackson. And he was so brave and nice. Like you.”

At that, Jia-er blushed, but nodded afterwards.

“Okay,” He said. “I’m Jackson, and you’re Bambam.”

They sealed it with a hug, and a promise to always have each other’s backs. That night, Bambam crawled on top of Jackson, in the most innocent sense, and latched onto him like a baby koala.

(21 years later, Bambam still slept on top of Jackson, holding onto him like he would escape from between his fingers, and they were still inseparable.)

When Jackson was 14 and Bambam 13, they stole their first thing ever. It was a pack of cheese strings from a convenience store. Bambam was hungry and Jackson didn’t have any money on him, so with extra coyness, they slipped a pack into Bambam’s backpack then left in a hurry. After that, they got involved in multiple other petty theft incidents. Cans of beer, cigarettes, and if they got lucky, actual cash. It was a little before Jackson became an adult when they did their first scam. It was on an older boy, in some shady bar they sneaked into. Bambam had grown into a pretty little thing, all curves and edges and seductive, juicy lips. Jackson sat a couple of stools away from where Bambam was flirting with the other boy, and he kept an eye on him; how he moved and spoke and touched the other male to get him so riled up. They were able to steal a hundred-dollar bill and some change, but to them, it felt like thousands.

That night, they ended up kissing all the way home. Up on fences, and walls, anywhere where Jackson, tall and built Jackson, could cage the slimmer boy. They realized, that somewhere in the past years, they had grown closer to each other in a way that was not innocent or platonic.

Jackson would feel tingly and weird whenever Bambam touched him, and his 17-year-old brain could not fathom that. Sure, he had kissed other people before, a couple of girls and one boy, strangers he had met in the weirdest of places, but it never felt the same as Bambam’s lips against his. Slowly, the innocent touches turned into…more. They both touched each other in places that no one had touched them before. In the darkness of their room back at Miss Vivian’s home, Jackson and Bambam explored each other’s bodies with their hands and mouths, and it scared them the first time, but later it became addicting, like a drug they could not shake off, or maybe like the rush of adrenaline they got from scamming, but soon enough, they couldn’t stop.

When Jackson turned 18, almost a year before Bambam, he was forced to leave the system. The last night, he had a lengthy conversation alone with Miss Vivian in her office, and later, he entered his and Bambam’s room, crawled under the cover and pulled the younger, crying boy on top of him. They spent the night sharing teary kisses and promises, reassuring each other that they would always be together, and that Bambam would join Jackson in less than a year.

True to their promises, 13 months later, a day after Bambam turned 18, he thanked Miss Vivian for saving his and Jackson’s lives, swearing to her on their love that they will repay her someday. Jackson had been sharing a rundown studio apartment with one of his friends, a guy named Jaebum he had met a couple of years prior. Jaebum easily took Bambam in, as long as the couple paid their share of the rent, and he didn’t even care about the noise they caused the first couple of days after their reunion.

Jackson and Bambam did not stop their scams. Mainly because it was easy money, but also because Bambam got addicted to the adrenaline rush he got from it. It made him feel superior, like he had control, and it was moments like these when everyone around them noticed that Bambam’s personality should have been in Jackson’s body and vice versa. To them, however, it was good the way they had it, because they completed each other, and it made them whole. Well, most of the time, at least.

In less than a year, Jackbam, as Jaebum liked to refer to them, upped their game, getting more and more professional. Jackson had learned a little about computers and hacking – thanks to computer engineer Im Jaebum who enjoyed being in on their little games. Day after day, the money they stole got bigger, and so did their love for each other.

It was messy; their love. A frenzy of pent up emotions and first times, and it took them by storm, shaking up the little world they had built together. But they got it to work, somehow. It was always a little broken, because Jackson was still a bit too much, and Bambam was still a bit scarred, but in each other’s arms, when the warmth of little Bambam seeped into Jackson’s bones, it was alright. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to our lifelessness and introverted personalities, we wrote this in a day. Hopefully, we'll stay lifeless so we could keep updating.  
> Sorry that Mark didn't show up yet, but this is Jackson and Bambam's back stories, and it's an extremely important chapter.


	3. iii. Red Apples

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark was just an average kid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! Smut written while listening to Yugyeom's You Know, and Taemin's Drip Drop :)

 

 

 

 

 

> _Los Angeles, April, 2017_

The apple tasted sweet on his tongue. Like sugar and ice water on a summer day. He closed his eyes, savoring the taste of the fresh, red fruit, and he wondered why it was too shiny and spotless.

“Tuan,” a voice said, snapping him from his daydream. Mark turned his head and looked at his project partner, who had a fed-up look on his face. “Why are you eating the props?”

Suddenly, the apple turned into sandpaper on his tongue, and he gulped hard, looking at the table in front of him. He noticed that indeed, he had been chewing on the apple the model was supposed to be using for the shoot. _That explains the extra cleanliness,_ he though.

“Oops?” [Mark](http://pm1.narvii.com/6476/b59209a5f3eadd36525e7dc0b55fba0e0aa4a953_hq.jpg) nervously laughed, looking back at his partner who was ready to slap him into oblivion.

Thomas sighed, already used to Mark’s antics because they’ve been partners for long (Thomas always chooses Mark because he’s a splendid photographer, and Mark is too anxious to get a new partner. Kind of a win-win situation). “Go to the cafeteria and get a new one. A red one please, and make sure it looks alright.”

Mark shuffled to his feet directly. Although being older than Thomas, the other boy didn’t seem to care about how he addressed Mark, and it made him a tad bit mad, but as usual, he bit his tongue, grabbed his wallet and walked all the way to the cafeteria (which was in a whole other block) to grab another red apple.

While he stood in front of the display staring at the fruits like one of them would just pop up and scream “pick me!”, a hand rested on his shoulder and startled him out of his trance.

“Hey, Mark-hyung,” Youngjae, Mark’s neighbor and the closest thing he has to a friend, said, standing next to him. Although he has been a transfer student in the states for over 3 years now, Youngjae was still deeply attached to his Korean upbringing, not letting go of the culture of honorifications. “What’re you doing?”

“Picking an apple.” Mark simply said.

“You’ve been staring at the display for almost 5 minutes.” Youngjae stated, taking in Mark’s appearance. The older boy was in an oversized hoodie that had a coffee stain on the sleeve, which Mark probably hasn’t noticed yet. His ripped jeans were a bit saggy on his legs, and his face was just downright horrible.

“You look like shit, hyung.” Youngjae said when Mark didn’t even bother to answer.

“Thanks for the love, Youngjae.” Mark scoffed, finally picking an apple and walking over to the cash register to pay for it.

“Sorry,” the younger boy apologized. “But you look like you haven’t slept in a week.”

“That’s because I haven’t,” Mark sighed. “And I haven’t had a proper meal in a week either.” He added under his breath, but Youngjae heard it.

“Hyung! I told you to come over to dinner whenever you come home late!” Youngjae protested, following Mark as he walked out of the cafeteria.

“I know, Youngjae, but I have been very busy lately, with projects and exams, and my job.” Mark sighed as he remembered his job at that Italian restaurant where he was overworked and underpaid, but it was his only source of income, so he had to endure it.

“You won’t be able to finish all the work you have if you’re dead.” Youngjae commented.

Mark groaned, “Look, I promise I will sleep better and get some food to eat, okay? And if I come home late I promise I’ll stop by your place for dinner, deal?”

“Sounds good, hyung.” Youngjae grinned, and it was too bright for Mark, but he finally let him go back to the arts building where he found out that everyone at the studio was waiting for him and the damn apple.

He apologized with shaky smiles, cleaned the apple until he could see his reflection in it, and then picked his camera and got to work.

Mark was brilliant when he worked. Despite the homeless vibe he gave out at the moment, everyone stopped and just stared at him as he took photo after photo, the outcomes turning out perfect. After about an hour of nonstop work, Mark was finally packing up to go back home. With a satisfied partner, his camera on his shoulder (which he had worked for a whole year to afford) and his car keys in the other hand, Mark bid everyone goodbye and left the building.

“Oh, Mr. Tuan.” One of Mark’s lecturers stopped him on his way out.

“Yes, Mr. Michaels?” Mark politely replied, looking at the older man who was now gesturing him into his office. Mark sighed discreetly, but slowly made his way into the man’s office.

Oliver Michaels was a well-known photographer who had worked with some of the biggest names in Hollywood. He taught some of Mark’s classes, and had always shown a little bit of bias towards the foreigner with the weird hair colors.

 Once inside the office, Mr. Michaels signaled for Mark to take a seat, and then smiled at him like he wanted to tell him some really good news. Mark needed some of those in his life.

“So, Mark, I see you’ve been doing well on your latest project.” Mr. Michaels complimented.

“Thank you, sir.” Mark smiled slightly.

“I have an assignment for you,” The older man said, and Mark sighed unconsciously which made the older man laugh and Mark’s face warm up with embarrassment. “If you are able to pull it off, I will exempt you from the final exam.” At that, Mark grinned.

Mr. Michaels chuckled, “I knew you’d like that. But you’re going to like the assignment even more.”

“I bet I will.” Mark laughed.

“Next Sunday, on the 23rd, there’s going to be an art gallery opening downtown. It’s owned by a dear friend of mine, and lots of very important and high-class people are going to attend. The owner asked me to bring along my camera to have a little photoshoot type of thing with some models and the art.”

“Such a good marketing idea.” Mark commented. He would know because he was minoring in Business Marketing.

“Indeed,” Mr. Michaels said. “But the thing is, I won’t be able to attend the photoshoot because I won’t be able to stay long. That’s why I’m transferring the duty to you.”

Mark tensed up. “Sir, that’s such a huge responsibility, are you sure you want to give it to me?”

“Mark, this is what? Your third class with me? I have seen your potential and drive, and I am not picking favorites here, but I do believe that you are one of the top photography majors, and I am certain that you are going to do great.” Mr. Michaels assured.

“Thank you, sir. This is such an honor.” Mark smiled gratefully.

“I will email you the details, and a copy of the invitation. And remember, the more satisfied the client is, the higher your final grade would be. I’m exempting you from the final exam, anyway.” Mr. Michaels stood up and walked towards Mark.

“Don’t worry, sir, I won’t let you down.”

Mark giddily skipped back to his car, excitement bubbling in his stomach. Not only did he not have to study for a final exam, but also this gig would get him so much recognition.

After a few huffs and puffs, Mark’s car roared to life- well, more like meowed. It was a [black Nissan Sunny](http://www.chutku.sg/media/sg/17601_17700/17634_b_d63f7bbf79459fe0e241adc1ab299ca2.jpg) that was over a decade and a half old. He has paid more on repairing it than he did on buying it, but it was his trusty companion that he has had since he was 18.

Mark Tuan was a typical all American boy (despite the fact that he was half Taiwanese) who spent his high school life riding a skateboard to school, and ditching classes to drink cheap bear and listen to Lil Wayne behind the school dumpsters. It all seemed so stereotypical and cliché, but Mark liked it. During his youth, he was always picked on because of things he couldn’t control, like his facial features, his sharp canine teeth, his scrawny body, his anxiety, or how he could blend in with walls better than humans. When he entered high school, he only had two friends, and they weren’t the best influence on him. He started smoking, and underage drinking, and skipping school to play videogames. It didn’t really go well with his parents, but it was teenage rebellion and they understood.

By the time his senior year in high school rolled around, he did not have enough credits to graduate, thus having to repeat the year. It was a rude awakening, and it changed Mark's perspective of things. He graduated at 19, but with straight As, lists of extracurricular activities, and enough credits to get him into a good university. It’s like someone flipped a switch inside of Mark and suddenly he was a hard-working student that volunteered in animal shelters instead of going to a party. It was all because he had lived his first real failure, and it had consequence, so he decided to straighten up his act. His parents, for the first time in his life, were proud of him.

As any child, Mark had a disagreement with his parents over what major to go into. After months of arguments, they finally settled on a compromise, Mark would major in what he likes- photography, which was a hobby he picked up suddenly, but he would also minor in something practical, which turned out to be Business Marketing.

After freshman year, and due to Mark’s outstanding grades, he got a scholarship, so his parents were paying nothing anymore. That did not stop them from making him feel like he needed to earn enough money to spend instead of taking an allowance from them. So, he got 2 part-time jobs, one at a coffee shop, and the other at an Italian restaurant, both not too far off from his dorm.

Due to his late-night shifts, Mark was entering the dorms after curfew, and thus the university dorm administration asked him to leave. Because of that, his parents cut him off. It was totally unfair and downright cruel, but according to his father, Mark should learn to be a responsible man and get his own place to live. He was being paid well enough anyway, right?

Wrong. Mark was getting paid minimum wage at both places, and with the rent and bills he had to pay because of the apartment he got, he was left with barely anything to get him through the month.

The first year with the new arrangement was hell. Mark’s grades dropped, jeopardizing his scholarship, and he sometimes would faint from overworking his body. However, by some Godly miracle, he was promoted at the Italian place to a manager, almost doubling his wage, but with the same working hours. After that, Mark quit his second job, and picked his grades back up.

It was his fourth year of university now, and almost 24-year-old photographer Mark was getting his first gig at an uptown art event, and he could not be happier.

Well, actually, he could. If his parents would just stop asking him if he were seeing anyone. Because he wasn’t. Partly because he had absolutely no time, and also because no one had caught his eye. Actually, someone did. Andrew from his public relations class, and Jennifer from his history of art class. But Andrew and Jennifer were dating other people, and Mark, friendless, nerdy Mark, did not want to push his luck; so, he drowned himself in work and books, eating instant ramen for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and running on 3 hours of sleep and 4 mugs of black coffee to keep him alive.

He was living the life.

\------

The couple’s airport fashion, just like their personalities, differed like day and night. While [Jackson ](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/e8/a9/55/e8a955fa450fa919da295e403195a460.jpg)dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt,  Bambam was in his typical button-up shirt, with tight fitting jeans and boots; the boy never missed a chance to dress up as if he’s going to strut down a runway, however, he didn’t have time to shave due to the fact that he spent most of the morning fixing that ONE strand of hair that was sticking out, driving him almost insane to the point where he almost punched the mirror (which reminded him that he should get back on his meds soon; he’ll have to contact his psychiatrist as soon as he lands in LA).

Being the perfectionist that he is, he wasn’t going to show the world his scruff, so he settled it by wearing his usual mask, and because it’s Bambam, lavish and over-the-top, it was a leather mask with the LV brand embroidered on it.

“You look like one of those K-pop idols, baby.” Jackson remarked while they walked through the airport, caps on, and faces hidden from the surveillance cameras. Bambam just winked at him as if his ego needed the extra bloating.

After getting on the airplane, the pair were greeted by the airline staff and were treated all the way to first class since Bambam likes to live as extravagant as his looks. Jackson couldn’t help but notice that one of the staff members was eyeing Bambam a little bit more than what was needed, and she didn’t even worry to make it subtle. She was trying to flirt with a taken man, and Jackson didn’t know whether he should be pissed, or amused and proud that his baby is a walking magnet for all people. Bambam’s charms attracted all genders and ages, and Jackson was one lucky fuck, he thought to himself, since all the care given by Bambam wasn’t directed at the hostess that was bluntly flirting with him, but at plain ol’ Jackson, and whether or not he was comfortable in his seat by the window (Since Jackson has always been afraid of heights) or whether he felt cold and needed a blanket since he’s only wearing a thin shirt.

“The hostess is giving you the flirty eyes.” Jackson pointed out for his boyfriend to see.

Bambam didn’t seem to care since he glanced at her for a second before fishing something out from his murse (Yes, man purse, Bambam would argue). He handed out a piece of gum to Jackson.

“Your breath stinks.” Bambam noted and giggled when Jackson shot him an offended look.

“It does not!” he gasped. “Okay woah, maybe a little. Damn, must be that tuna sandwich I ate at the airport, it tasted a bit funny.”

At that point, the same hostess approached them, puckering her lips and looking straight at Bambam. “I hope you’re both comfortable and settled in your seats,” she purred out seductively. “As you know, policies here require you to fasten your seatbelts properly. Here, allow me to help you.” She smiled coyly, then reached out for the belt around Bambam’s waist to adjust it, but Jackson beat her to it.

“I sure wouldn’t want anything to happen to my baby.” He looked at Bambam as he slowly adjusted the seatbelt, brushing his hand slightly over the younger’s crotch. At that point, Bambam was getting riled up, so he shot Jackson a couple of warning glances, but Jackson was fuming and he wasn’t about to stop any time soon, even with the elderly woman beside them shooting out judgmental stares in their direction.

“I love the way you smell today, baby.” Jackson said as he nuzzled his nose into Bambam’s neck.

“I’m wearing no cologne, Jackson.” Bambam chuckled, but that didn’t stop Jackson, because he breathed in his boyfriend’s scent, and then proceeded to leave wet kisses, all the way down to Bambam’s collarbones, nibbling and sucking at the soft flesh, all while working to unbutton the first two buttons of Bambam’s dress shirt.

“Babe,” Bambam whined, trying to contain his thoughts (and his boyfriend), and feeling his jeans getting tighter than usual. “Stop it.”

Jackson bit him a little harder. “Fuck, we’ll get kick-” Bambam tried to hum out but was rudely interrupted by Jackson’s lips on his.

“Hmmm, baby, afraid to put on a show?” Jackson was determined, so he did the only thing that would drive Bambam crazy, and that is rub his fingers over one of Bambam’s sensitive nipples, with enough pressure to cause goosebumps over the younger’s skin, and a blood-rush all the way down to his crotch.

By then, Bambam was above the clouds way before the plane even took off, even with the stewardess’s voice above them, asking them to stop. Bambam moaned Jackson’s name quietly, and then grabbed onto his hair, yanking his head backwards a bit too harshly, getting a moan from the latter too.

“I never took you as the jealous type,” Bambam whispered nibbling on the Adam’s apple on Jackson’s neck, which moved slightly as he gulped. “It’s sexy, but you better try harder if you want to keep our audience entertained.” They both shot a glance at the flustered passengers and hostesses.

Jackson was even more determined now, so he yanked his seatbelt open, and was on top of Bambam in no time. “It’s okay if no one’s entertained,” Jackson said, his voice coming out hoarse. He proceeded to sink to his knees, his hand tracing the outline of Bambam’s clothed member, which, by then, was standing at the attention. “As long as he is, and I think he’s ready for the closing act.” Jackson mouthed at Bambam’s crotch, his hot breath hitting it, making the younger squirm in his seat. Some of the passengers yelped, complaining about the crude and vulgar behavior. 

Bambam was too flustered to reply with words. With his eyes dark, and lips swollen from all the biting, he grabbed his lover by the shirt and clumsily got up, dragging Jackson all the way to the bathroom. The hostess was about to protest, since the flight was about to take off and what the couple were doing was against the acceptable social conduct, but she was quickly ignored by the bathroom door being shut and locked.

With sloppy kisses, the two relentlessly worked their way in the suffocating space. They were too loud, and the kissing had too much spit in it- too much teeth also, but they did not mind one bit, in fact it turned them on even more. They were never the soft type, figuring they never had a soft life either.

Bambam yanked the other boy down to his knees. “Finish what you started, Idina Menzel.” He said, humor heavy in his voice, but his tone was demanding and lustful. So Jackson did just that. He unzipped his boyfriend’s pants with his teeth. Gritty to put on that show, he gave out lazy kisses on the thin fabric of Bambam’s boxers, teasing and staring at the younger waiting for him to react. Bambam grabbed Jackson’s blonde hair once more, then went on to undress himself. Bambam then yanked his giggling boyfriend to his fully erected length. “Break a leg.” he said amusingly, smirking at how Jackson licked his lips in anticipation.

Jackson smiled, his hands running up and down Bambam’s soft thighs, then he kissed the small, barely visible scars there, because he had them memorized over the years.

Jackson made sure his lips were moist before he went on to take the younger’s balls in his mouth. He sucked at them with the right pressure, and that made Bambam moan and huff as a form of applause. Not seconds after, Jackson was licking all the way over Bambam’s length to the leaking head, making sure his tongue covered the thick veiny cock, leaving no area ignored; after all, a true artist never leaves any of their audience out of the show.

The older licked the pre-cum from the slit, humming out how tasty and addicting his boyfriend is, and just like that he took all of Bambam’s length into his hot mouth like a professional, ignoring his lunch that was threatening to surface, and how dizzy he felt from the lack of oxygen he was taking in. It wasn’t long before Bambam moaned out that he was close to his release when Jackson was bobbing his head, and sucking at the right pace, matching Bambam’s thrusts.

“All over my face, baby,” Jackson ordered, removing Bambam’s cock from his mouth with a pop, and taking him into his hand. “It’s my grand finale.”

After a few flicks of Jackson’s wrist, Bambam came, leaving his trace all over Jackson’s face, who tried his best to lick what he could. The younger even traced his finger over Jackson’s face to wipe some off, then he licked it. Jackson raised his eyebrows, amused by the act. “What? I was curious,” Bambam said innocently, using a few paper towels to clean himself up. Then he zipped up his pants and fixed his appearance like nothing happened. “Now get up before you get us kicked off the plane and mess our schedule.”

Jackson obediently got up and washed his face, running a hand through his blonde hair to tame it a little.

By the time they returned to their seats, the pilot was announcing take off. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How you know I'm not big? ;) 
> 
> ** Imagine Jackson and Mark from the If You Do era!!


	4. iv. Vanilla Ice Cream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time Mark saw a God

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! I have no warning.

“The last house for today is a wonderful piece. 4 bedrooms, 5 bathrooms, 1,500 square feet of furnished heaven on earth. It comes with a basement, an outdoor pool, and a jacuzzi.” The real estate woman smiled, looking between the couple who were walking inside the estate, taking in the modern build of the [house](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/31/dc/89/31dc89453182eabf453614d01e283157.jpg).

Jackson’s eyes sparkled at the mention of the jacuzzi, and he looked at Bambam with puppy dog eyes, but the younger was already grinning. They both knew that this was the house they needed.

They had spent all day going around Los Angeles, looking for the perfect place to rent, but all the other houses were either too small or too big, or too out in the open. This one, however, was exactly what they needed. In a secluded estate, with nearly no houses around them, the couple were happy with their pick.

(Also, if Bambam had to endure more of the real estate woman’s squeaky voice, he would stab himself in the eye.)

“Great, we’ll take it.” Bambam said, fixing his bag under his arm.

“But you haven’t seen it from the inside yet,” The woman said. “Are you sure?" 

“Yes, we’re sure.” Bambam said.

“Um, y-you didn’t even ask about the price.” The woman smiled nervously.

“Well, how much is it?” Jackson asked, but they really didn’t care much.

“$32,000 per month.” The woman stated.

“Okay, cool.” Jackson said, taking Bambam’s hand in his.

“You don’t have to pay the rent now, however, we’ll take a down payment, and then the rest at the end of the month.” The woman informed the couple.

“Is all the information in the contract?” Bambam asked. “We’d like to move in today.”

“Sure, sir. I’ll get the contract ready. Why don’t you two go in with my assistant to see the house from inside in the meanwhile?” The woman smiled, pushing forward a young girl who seemed more nervous than the woman herself.

“Take your time.” Jackson threw her a bedazzling smile, then pulled his boyfriend inside to give the house a once-over.

The girl followed closely behind, but she was so quiet, the pair almost forgot she was with them. Jackson and Bambam walked into the house hand in hand, the heels of the latter’s boots clicking against the clear marble floor.

“A house with a jacuzzi and airplane sex? Damn, baby, I’m crossing so many things off my bucket list this week.” Jackson laughed, very content with the house.

The girl squeaked, and the couple looked at her weirdly, but she just hid her face in embarrassment.

“You don’t have a bucket list, babe.” Bambam rolled his eyes.

“Yes, I do,” Jackson protested. “I wrote it on you once, but I think we were high, and I most probably licked it off, but I’m pretty sure I wrote it.”

The girl was wheezing. Full on wheezing, and Jackson had to shake her to make sure she wouldn’t die.

“Are you alright?” He asked her. The girl almost fainted.

Bambam pushed Jackson aside and slowly lead the girl to a nearby couch. “Easy there, sweetheart. Why don’t you take a seat before we get accused of manslaughter?”

10 minutes later, the real estate agent came back with a stack of papers, sitting the couple down to discuss the contract.

They finally signed the papers, and Jackson texted Jaebum to transfer the money (which was mostly a fake transfer, but Jaebum made sure that no one would ever find out). When the woman got a message that the money was successfully transferred, she handed Jackson the keys, and left.

“Great then,” Bambam said, dusting off his pants and standing up. “Let’s get to work.”

The couple had arrived in Los Angeles the day before. One of Jaebum’s men, an American guy named Kevin, met them at the airport with a sleek black Mercedes and two new passports. Bambam and Jackson were Bellamy Moore and Jonah Harris respectively, for their stay in LA. They always chose names that started with Bs and Js, sort of like an inside joke between the two of them (well, the three of them). Kevin took the old passports, and by the hour, their old identities were erased forever.

They checked in the Hilton hotel for one night only, and in the meantime, Bambam had dyed his hair jet-black to match the picture he had in the new passport. They didn’t do much the first day except decide on a story for their new identities. Bellamy and Jonah were a couple that were preparing for their wedding while they were on a business trip in Los Angeles. Simple enough so no one would wonder or suspect anything.

After they left the hotel the morning after, Jackson deleted their trace, sort of like they were ghosts, and they had met the real estate agent to look around for the perfect place to stay in for whatever short period of time they would stay.

After a long morning, they finally found it, and by nightfall, all their stuff and equipment were transferred by Jaebum’s men and installed in the new place. Jackson decided to transform the basement into his operations room, and Bambam was more than happy that Jackson would take his chaos away from anywhere Bambam would be at.

OCD was a nasty illness, and when Bambam started seeing the world as a mess of germs at the age of 20, he knew that it had been dormant inside him for so long; probably a result of his childhood. Now, although under constant medication, Bambam still had trouble with messes. Which was ironic, because Jackson was a living, breathing mess, and Bambam loved the boy to pieces. Anyway, to maintain what is left of his boyfriend’s sanity, Jackson always took his messes elsewhere, leaving Bambam with a clean space to live in.

That evening, with his boyfriend next to him playing online videogames under the name of “ _GeneralBigBoyD”,_ Bambam sat cooped up on the couch, searching for any event he could attend. It took him some time, searching and searching more for just the right one, before he finally found it.

“Aha, here it is.” Bambam said, clicking around to see the details of the event.

It was an art gallery opening, at some high-class part of LA, of some modern artist that Bambam had never heard off. The list of attendees was unbelievable; celebrities, businessmen, and artists, and it looked like a giant pot of gold to Bambam.

“Baby, this is it.” He stuck his iPad in Jackson’s face, cutting off his view.

“Babe, wait, just let me finish this mission.” Jackson moved his head, continuing to kill more characters off the screen. Bambam huffed, knowing that it would take at least an hour before Jackson finished.

“Jacks, you need to get me on that list tonight.” Bambam stated.

“I will,” Jackson said, got distracted for a minute then continued. “Just 5 more minutes.”

“No, now.” Bambam nagged, skootching closer to his boyfriend. Jackson didn’t even turn to look at him, so Bambam started running his hands over Jackson’s arms.

“Cut it off, you’re distracting me.” Jackson groaned when Bambam started trailing kisses on the back of his neck. Bambam smirked against his skin.

“No, not you, you idiot.” Jackson spoke into his headset.

“Baaaaaabe.” Bambam nagged more, poking Jackson in the ribs until he gave up.

Jackson sighed, because his boyfriend was relentless, then he paused the game. "Sorry, guys, but my boy needs me." He said into the headset, taking it off.

The boys on the other end groaned and complained about how Jackson left them to make out with his boyfriend. And like typical teenage boys, they commented, "you suck."

And like a typical 27-year-old, Jackson commented, "and I swallow", which resulted in more complaints and fake gagging noises. 

Jackson whipped out his laptop, doing his magic and getting Bambam's name (or Bellamy Moore's name) on the guest list of the event.

"What do I get for helping you?" Jackson asked sweetly, puckering up his lips for a kiss.

Bambam placed his hand over Jackson's lips and said, "the ultimate joy of doing a good deed for your boyfriend."

Bambam spent the rest of the night picking a target, not too famous to be risky, but rich enough to scam, also vulnerable enough so he wouldn’t report it.

After finally settling on one guy, an old man known for his multiple hook-ups and scandals, Bambam did deep and thorough research on him, a background check, bank statements, anything and everything he could find on him, before he shut off his laptop, at half past 3 in the morning, and went to bed.

-

The morning of the event, Bambam woke up a bit distraught; he’d always had that gut feeling that was somehow accurate. Jackson always joked about how he might be psychic, but Bambam had said that maybe it was the new medication that his psychiatrist prescribed. He brushed it off with a cold splash of water on his face and continued his usual morning routine. He had spent the past couple of nights reading about art and photography and anything he could; maybe all that artsy stuff was making him nervous.

Descending down the stairs of their new LA house with his face mask on and that white lingerie that Jackson got him as a gift for their 9th year of scamming, Bambam called Jackson down to the kitchen because most probably his lazy ass might have fallen back asleep. Bambam tried his best to make an edible breakfast which only consisted of fruit loops but with cut fruits since he’s trying to be “healthy”.

“You are by far the weirdest human being I have ever encountered.” Jackson remarked, eyeing the bowl of cereal that Bambam held.

“And you are by far the laziest human being I have ever encountered,” Bambam retorted. “It’s been 6 minutes and 43 seconds since I called you down.”

Jackson seemed to pick up on Bambam’s bad mood immediately, considering they have been together for all these years.

“What got your cute panties in a twist?” Jackson asked, stealing the bowl from Bambam to gulp down a bit of the milk, the act getting a nose scrunch from Bambam.

“I don’t know, I’m in one of these moods again.” Bambam sighed.

“Baby’s PMSing?” Jackson joked, licking the milk off his pouty partner’s lips.

“Just read me the mission, Jacks.” Bambam giggled.

Jackson lifted Bambam up to the cold counter of their kitchen and proceeded to kiss his boyfriend’s thighs in hopes to cheer him up a bit. Then he sat down on one of the stools, put his head on Bambam’s lap, at which Bambam threaded his fingers through the blonde locks, and cleared his throat, reading off his laptop screen.

“Location: 300 E. Temple St., Los Angeles, at The Geffen Contemporary, Moca.

Event: Artists in The Parks modern art event, a project owned by some rich dude. 

Description: Artists in The Parks provides high and well established artists an opportunity to exhibit their works in the parks of NYC’s Tribeca Community as an act of donation to The Claire and Jan Binney Lang Art Foundation. Tonight’s the reception and the opening ceremony. Basically, some rich fucks buying off unnecessary overpriced pieces they probably don’t understand. I mean, I bet even the artists themselves have like vomited paint on…” Jackson drawled on.

“Jackson, focus.” Bambam interrupted, half sighing and half giggling, trying to sound annoyed.

“Target: Oliver Michaels, 52 years of age.

Position: Professor at the University of California, Los Angeles, UCLA, and a well-known photographer.

Description: Sharp nose, well built, long hair; grey on the sides, mole under right eye.

Nationality: Half American, half Italian

Status: Single. No children. Known to hook up with clients.

Important note: As usual, hella fucking rich, and a little famous too.

Weaknesses: Neck, and waist. The smell of Vanilla. Being admired and complimented for his works.

Goal: Black card, no other card available. Money from First Bank account, local branch in Los Angeles. Bank account number: 345778,” Jackson heaved a breath after his rant.

“Idiot, less work for me, though.” Jackson snickered, but realized that his lover was spaced out somewhere, nibbling on his nails. Huffing at the thought of him just reading for no purpose, Jackson grabbed Bambam’s hands and left fluttery kisses on them.

“Will you relax? Everything will be fine, just stick to the plan like you always do.” He reassured.

“Fuck, I ruined my manicure!” Bambam whined which got a laugh from Jackson. It was transparent manicure, but it’s Bambam.

“You’re such a puppy sometimes.” Jackson pulled Bambam down to his lap.

“A puppy with a good bite.” Bambam hummed nuzzling his face into Jackson’s neck. They made out for what seemed like hours before Bambam regained his upbeat mood, lips both numb and swollen. They spent the rest of the day eating and preparing more for the night.

\-------

Right across town, in a one-bedroom apartment for the rent of $400 a month, Mark was giving up on life. Not literally, although he did consider flinging himself from the window, but metaphorically, because he had absolutely no formal clothing to wear to the event which he was supposed to be at 3 hours later.

He had flipped his closet inside out, but the only suit he found was the one he had worn to his sister’s wedding two years earlier, which was now baggy on his thin frame, due to his unbelievable weight loss.

Mark groaned, picking up Coco, his and Youngjae’s shared dog, and stroking her white fur with his fingers.

“What am I going to do, Coco? If I fuck this up, Youngjae threatened to murder me.” He sighed. Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. As soon as the words left Mark’s mouth, a knock sounded on his front door.

Youngjae stood at the door, a plate of fresh food in his hands. “I made you lunch!” He announced, shoving the plate in Mark’s hands and swapping it for Coco.

“Youngjae! My life saver! My bestest friend in the whole world!” Mark giddily smiled, walking behind Youngjae further into the apartment.

“Woah, okay, I don’t think a plate of lasagna is worth all those compliments.” Youngjae raised his eyebrows in confusion.

“I wasn’t talking about the food. Thanks, though. I was starving,” Mark rolled his eyes, picking up a fork and guzzling down half the plate in one go. “I sort of need your help.”

“I’m not helping you hide a dead body. I don’t love you that much.” Youngjae quickly replied.

“Why would you even think I have a dead bo…” Mark started then decided to ignore it, so he shook his head and continued. “I need a suit for the event.”

“You’ve known you’re going to the fucking event from like a week, how did you not notice that you have nothing to wear?” Youngjae scoffed.

“I had other things to worry about,” Mark rolled his eyes. “Are you gonna help me or not?”

Youngjae sighed. “Fine, we’ll go buy you one.”

“Uh, I’m broke.” Mark pointed out as if it were the most obvious thing.

“Then what am I supposed to do?” The other boy looked at him with disbelief.

“Can’t you lend me one of yours?” Mark asked, finishing his food and washing the dirty plate.

“I’m like two sizes bigger than you.” Youngjae said, then both boys simultaneously sighed. After 5 minutes of silence on both ends, Youngjae spoke up again. “I can’t believe I’m doing this. Come on.”

“What? Where are we going?” Mark asked, but grabbed his jacket and his keys and followed Youngjae out of the apartment anyway.

“You know how I have this uncle who’s a high-end defense attorney?” Youngjae asked and Mark nodded. “Well, he’s out of town for business, and he left me his apartment keys to keep an eye on it. He’s about your size, maybe a little shorter, but I think we can find you something to borrow.”

“I owe you my life.” Mark said, attacking Youngjae’s back with a hug.

“Fuck off,” The younger pushed him off but laughed anyway. “But yeah, you kinda do.”

It was a 10-minute drive to Youngjae’s uncle’s place, for which they took Mark’s car cause that’s the least he could do. It took them another 40 minutes to decide on the suit, but finally, they found one that fit Mark almost perfectly. Extra points because it looked very expensive.

By the time he got back home, Mark had around 2 hours to get ready and get to the venue. He took a shower, using his favorite shampoo that smelled like mangos and chocolate, then blow-dried his hair (using Youngjae’s hairdryer), styled it like it was meant to look effortless, but it actually took him 10 minutes to do, and got dressed. It was a [3-piece suit](http://www.k-pop.ru/wp-content/uploads/2017/02/tumblr_ok312fOerd1qfgjluo1_1280.jpg), with a satin jacket and a plain black vest under it. The pants were a tiny bit short on Mark’s long legs, but it was alright. He paired the suit with a black and white dress shirt that seemed a little bizarre, but stylish, and the formal black shoes he already had. His accessories were simple, silver earrings, a fake Rolex watch he once bought at a pawn shop, and for the kicks of it, his under-tongue piercing.

Before he left, he sprayed some cologne, then he dropped Coco off at Youngjae’s, right across the hall. With his car keys, phone safely tucked inside his jacket (well, not his obviously), his camera bag, and a death-threat from Youngjae to take care of the suit, Mark got into his car and started it. Well, tried to, because April (that’s what he calls his car) refused to come alive.

“Oh, come on, baby. Daddy has to get to work so he could get an easy A.” Mark nagged, stroking the dashboard with his hand, begging the car to cooperate.

After a few tries, the car finally coughed to life and Mark thanked the heavens. Until it broke down again, 15 minutes later. Mark cursed and huffed, parking on the side of the road before he exited the car and cracked open the hood. Which was a stupid idea because as soon as he pushed it up, grey smoke gushed in his face, filling his lungs.

“Goddamn it.” Mark yelled, huffing and waving his hand in front of his face to clear the smoke. After he inspected the engine and decided that he had no idea what the fuck he was doing, he finally settled on adding water to the part where he is supposed to add water (he’s a photographer, not a mechanic), convincing himself that the engine was just overheated.

To his luck, he was actually right, and April did turn back on. Before driving off, Mark noticed that he now smelled like smoke, instead of the woody scent of his cologne, so to spare himself the embarrassment, he removed the air-freshener from the rearview mirror, and put it in his pocket. Now he smelled of pine and smoke, and he hoped that people would think it’s what he was aiming for.

Mark got to the event just in time, and after checking his name off the list (his name was on the list!), he walked into the art gallery and was greeted by the sight of pretentious people. Yup, he said it.

“Mark Tuan?” A smooth voice asked from behind him, and Mark turned to see a man in his late 50s maybe 60s, with greying hair, but a young woman on his arm.

“Yes, sir.” Mark politely replied.

The man stopped a waiter, picked up a glass of champagne from the tray, and shoved it in Mark’s hand.

“Phillipe Gerard, the owner,” The man shook Mark’s hand then continued. “Oliver has told me that you are going to be replacing him as the photographer today.” He started walking and Mark followed him wordlessly. He sounded a bit skeptical, but Mark didn’t blame him.

“Yes, sir. Mr. Michaels asked me to be his substitute for this event.” Mark said although the man already knew.

“I trust Oliver’s choice, and it saddens me that he’s not going to be attending today.” Phillipe said.

“Oh, he’s not coming?” Mark asked, suddenly feeling a lot more nervous now that he knew that he wouldn’t have the support of his instructor.

“Unfortunately, something came up and he won’t be joining us this evening,” Phillipe said, stopping in front of a group of beautiful people gathered in front of a painting. “I already have photographers for the normal pictures. Your job today is to photograph these models with the art, maybe even the artists. Get creative, use your space, and take your time. I want to see what Oliver sees in you.”

“You can count on me, sir.” Mark smiled politely, shaking Phillipe’s hand once more before the latter excused himself and left.

Mark drank the whole flute of champagne in one go, then turned around to see the models looking at him with anticipation.

“Ladies,” Mark started then noticed the two guys in the back. “And gentlemen, I will be with you in a minute. In the meanwhile, just enjoy your evening. Act normal, and maybe I will start with some candid shots. We’ll start the photoshoot at around 10 P.M, let’s say? That would give me enough time to see what I’m working with.” He sounded dead-ass professional and it even surprised him.

The models looked at him with a little admiration before they nodded in agreement and dispersed with the promise to meet Mark at that same spot in around an hour.

After that, Mark hurried to the bar, ordered a glass of whatever the guy next to him was having, then worked on calming down his nerves.

He really wanted that A.

\-----

Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata played in the background as Bambam adjusted the Chanel pin on his suit. It was an expensive all [black suit](http://spnimage.edaily.co.kr/images/photo/files/NP/S/2016/12/PS16122600084.jpg), with a silver lining on the hem, giving it a little bit of life. He paired it with a satin dress shirt, and of course, squeaky-clean, shiny leather, black shoes. He accessorized with his cross earring on one side and a simple hoop earring on the other, his Chanel mini-cam pin, and his Bluetooth device for distraction. As for makeup, he decided to put on blue contact lenses, a little bit of dark eyeshadow, and of course, his signature pink lip-gloss.

After testing the new equipment around the house (which got Jackson a free half-assed dirty dance in front of the mirror from the younger as a joke), Bambam was ready to go out and do what seemed like the only thing that he does so well- besides fucking Jackson into oblivion.

Both sinful, however yielded a great sense of empowerment for the younger.

While Bambam fixed himself, Jackson had hacked into the surveillance of the venue, and got ready to monitor the whole thing.

Bambam took a cab to the event, because he is afraid of driving, that’s one, and two, the couple would rather not have anything traced back to them.

Arriving fashionably late (only by 30 minutes because his perfectionist tendancies wouldn't allow him more),  Bambam walked into the art gallery, after the receptionist crossed out his name from the list, and he picked up a fruity cocktail at the entrance.

It was silent for the first half hour, neither of the pair speaking anything in particular, except Jackson acting like a fashion police from time to time.

“If I smell myself again I’m going to hurl all over this arts gallery; I smell like fucking vanilla ice cream.” Bambam whispered/nagged to the older on the other line of the microphone. He was getting bored and restless because he still hasn’t located his target.

“You’d be contributing to the art there.” Jackson joked, suddenly craving some vanilla ice cream, so he got up to the fridge and got some; yet again, he was stoned- well, halfway at least.

“The art is not that bad, Jackson, you just have to have an open mind, but that,” he angled the mini-cam to the direction of some painting. “That definitely looks like vomit.”

Jackson let out a laugh, his mouth full of ice cream. “How much is it for? We do need art in the house, if I think about it, definitely not in the kitchen though.”

Jackson was expecting a laugh from the one on the field, however he received a sigh. “I cannot locate our target; I checked his profile a thousand times already and the gallery is not that crowded,” Bambam was starting to panic. “What if we lost him? Maybe he’s in the smoking area outside.”

Jackson realized that his boyfriend wasn’t in his right mind because the target had no smoking history.

“I knew this would happen, Jacks. We should’ve canceled this.” Bambam said as he gulped down his fourth cocktail for the night, feeling a bit hazy and blurry.

“Then it’s okay, baby, wrap it up and come back home; there are other events coming up soon.” Jackson assured.

“No! It won’t fit our schedule; we have to be in Chile for the car event next week! We have no time to waste.” Bambam almost yelled out, panic consuming him. His skin was starting to prickle.

Jackson struggled to find words to calm his indecisive partner, so he just sighed and took a scoop of ice cream and let his partner sort it out; after all, Bambam never listened to anyone but himself when he’s panicking and would soon calm himself down back to common sense.

The line was oddly silent and not filled with Bambam’s usual panicky rants which had Jackson panic himself.

“Baby?” No response, just the sound of light breathing to give away that he’s still alive.

“Bammie? Bambam? Kunpimook? Heck, Bellamy?” he cringed. “You better fucking reply before I dress my bitch ass up and come there in no time.” Jackson breathed.

“Oh, hush up a bit, I think I found a new target.” Bambam adjusted his pin, pointing at the distant figure for Jackson to see, but before Jackson gave out any further complaints or approval, Bambam was already ordering two drinks from the bar.

“Young and rich, just my type.” Bambam pursed his lips, a sense of control over the messy situation being regained.

"Bambam? That's improvising! You never improvise!" Jackson yelled into his ear.

"I'm not wasting everything I studied about art for the past couple of days." Bambam huffed, grabbing the two glasses in his hands.

"Still salty about last time?" Jackson sighed.

"Hell yes," Bambam said. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a rich man to scam." Then he was strutting towards the blonde-haired beauty in the luxurious satin black suit.

Meanwhile, Mark was waiting for all the models to meet him back at the spot. He had already taken loads of candid shots, and he was pretty damn happy with the outcome. As he waited, a man with raven-black hair and the bluest eyes caught his attention. He wasn’t doing anything in particular, just sipping on a cocktail, looking like he belonged just there. Not at the art gallery, but IN the art gallery. Mark felt the urge to push the horrible looking sculpture off the pedestal, and replace it with that guy. Instead, however, he settled on taking his picture. Multiple times, zoomed in and out.The former too flustered to notice.

When Mark lowered his camera, the guy had disappeared into the crowd. Mark felt disappointment seep into his core, but the models had already started arriving, so he put on a smile and waited.

Until the blackest hair and the bluest eyes entered his line of vision, and Mark was looking a God in the face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We shamelessly giggled for 3 hours because "Nissan" (the brand of Mark's car) in Arabic, translates to April. I digress.
> 
> Such a fun chapter to write omg we need a life asap


	5. v. Fruit Cocktails

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bambam was only supposed to get the card and get out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! Hardcore sex; mentions of blood, sharp objects, and slight violence.

“Interesting event, isn’t it?” Bambam asked, smiling shyly at the boy in front of him. The guy’s eyes widened for a minute before he smiled back.

Normally, his anxiety would shut him up, and fluster him enough so he would clamp up and not say a word, but now, with probably the most beautiful person he has ever seen standing in front of him, it’s like even the Gods wanted to help him.

“Uh, yes. Very.” Mark spluttered out, his brain and tongue seemingly out of connection.

“Bellamy Moore.” Bambam said, handing the boy one of the cocktail glasses.

Get it together, Tuan! “Mark Tuan, nice to meet you.” Mark took the glass from Bambam’s hand, purposely brushing his fingers against the latter’s.

“I heard Bella Hadid’s here.” Bambam said out of the blue, because he didn’t know what else to say. Jackson snickered in his ear.

“I’m sorry, who?” Mark asked, getting confused.

Bambam’s confident front faltered for a second. “B-Bella Hadid. Uhm, the model?”

“Yeah, of course, Ella.” Mark had no idea what he meant.

“Bella.” Bambam corrected, and Jackson was full-on howling with laughter.

“Right,” Mark’s face turned red with embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I have no idea who that is. I mean, I have probably seen her, but I’m not that good with names.”

“No worries.” Bambam chuckled. An awkward silence settled for a minute, with Jackson talking Bambam’s ear off about how pretty the dude is, before someone tapped Mark on the shoulder.

“Mr. Photographer?”

Mark quickly turned around and saw one of the models smiling awkwardly at him. “Mark.” He said.

“Mark, listen, so one of the front-liners had to leave, because of something or the other, but we have contacted Mr. Phillipe and the agency and they’re bringing someone else in. We might be around 30 to 40 minutes behind schedule. Is that okay with you?” She politely smiled at him.

Mark thought about it for a minute; it’s not like he had to be home early or anything, and this delay would give him time to speak to the cute guy. So, he just smiled at the model and said, “Sure, we have all night. Take your time, and call me whenever you guys are ready.”

The model thanked him and walked away, and when he turned back the guy was smiling at him.

“So, photographer.” Bambam stated.

“At least he has the same profession as the original target.” Jackson remarked.

“Yup,” Mark nodded shyly, then picked up his camera from the table next him. “Let’s go sit somewhere, yeah? I’ve been standing for like an hour.”

The two men walked around the gallery until they found a bench. They sat there, in the little space, next to a woman in her late 60s maybe, thighs pressed together, and arms touching.

Mark adjusted his camera on his shoulder before he spoke. “So, you didn’t tell me what you do. What brings you here?”

“I own a company, back in Korea. It’s nothing big, you probably haven’t heard of it. We manufacture clothes for some brands and whatnot. I’m in LA for a business trip, and a friend of a friend extended the invitation to me for this event. Thought I’d check it out. I’m really into art.” Bambam bluffed perfectly, years of experience obvious in how he spoke.

“Cool,” Mark said, sipping on his drink then looking sideways at the other boy. “I got invited here to be the photographer. We’re having some sort of photoshoot with the art.”

“You seem pretty good at what you do,” Bambam smiled then pointed at the camera. “Mind if I see?”

Mark tensed up for a bit; he really didn’t want the guy to see that he had taken his pictures without him knowing, so he quickly turned on the camera, flipped in the pictures till he got far away from Bellamy’s pictures, and then told the latter to go left.

Bambam noticed what happened, but he brushed it off and took the expensive looking camera from Mark’s hand, flipping through the photos. They were some really good shots, some candid, some purposeful, but they all were taken professionally.

“Those are amazing.” Bambam complimented, sounding sincere. He actually surprised himself and his boyfriend, because that was the first time he says something on the job and actually means it.

“Thank you.” Mark smiled shyly. _Fuck me, he’s adorable_. Bambam thought.

They spent the next 30 minutes or so talking about art, Bambam content that all the studying he did had not gone to waste. It was a pleasant conversation; Mark was a polite boy who seemed really interested in art and photography. Bambam almost felt bad about his intentions. Key word being almost. During the conversation, the two shared small touches and looks; discreet hand brushes, some laughs, and nervous lip bites.

“Get it over with, Bam.” Jackson, forever the impatient person that he is, said while Mark was telling Bambam something about one of the paintings they were sitting close to.

“Mark? There you are.” The same model from before came to fetch Mark.

“Would you like to come watch?” Mark asked Bambam as they stood up.

“Sure, just let me grab a drink,” Bambam said. “You want anything?”

“Um, no thanks. I’m watching my alcohol cause I’m driving.” Mark smiled politely.

“Okay, I’ll meet you there then. Maybe we can go on a drive, or you know.” Bambam seductively winked at Mark before he walked away, with a little extra sway of his hips.

“Damn, that guy is guarded,” Jackson commented as Bambam grabbed yet another fruit cocktail. “I can’t find anything online about him. No police records, no bank accounts, nothing. I keep getting results to social media platforms and some schools.”

“I haven’t even been able to swipe his wallet or anything,” Bambam sighed. “Either these cocktails have absolutely shit alcohol in them, or my tolerance has increased, because I’m barely even buzzed.”

“Just go home with him. Try to at least get one of his cards or something.” Jackson said while Bambam walked to go to where Mark was.

“Copy that, Major Big Boy D.” Bambam giggled, referring to Jackson’s videogame username.

“Barely buzzed, my ass. You’re halfway wasted, baby.” Jackson chuckled, and Bambam just giggled more.

It took Mark around an hour to finish the photoshoot. His excitement over taking that boy home gave him extra energy, and he got creative and artsy with the pictures. After he was done, Mark noticed Mr. Phillipe standing close and grinning from ear to ear.

“Great job, Mr. Tuan.” He had commented, and Mark felt even more giddy because goddamn, he was getting that A.

After packing up his camera safely in its bag, Mark walked over to where Bambam was standing.

“So, Mr. Bellamy Moore, enjoyed the show?” Mark asked, smiling brightly at Bambam.

“Very much, Mr. Mark Tuan,” Bambam purred. “Maybe you can give me a private show somewhere out of here?”

Mark’s breath caught in his throat, but then he straightened up, offered his hand to the other boy and said, “I’ll drive.”

Bambam gladly accepted Mark’s hand, then they were waiting for Mark’s car to be brought by the valet.

When a black car stopped in front of them, Mark let go of Bambam’s hand and went to open the door for him.

Bambam expected anything. Really, he expected a BMW, a Mercedes, maybe some flashy sports car, but he got a Nissan. An ugly, black Nissan.

“Oh my God.” Jackson’s voice rang in his ear, cracking with laughter.

With a dumbfounded expression, Bambam walked further and let himself into the car.

“Nice car.” Bambam commented, putting on his seatbelt.

“Her name’s April.” Mark proudly said as he slipped into the driver’s seat and started the car.

“Her name’s April.” Jackson repeated in a high-pitched voice before he burst out laughing.

“Cute.” Bambam said, cringing subtly.

“Yeah, it’s not much,” Mark laughed nervously, noticing the slight change in his companion’s mood. “But it gets me places.”

“Seems…reliable.” Bambam couldn’t find another word to describe the atrocity he was sat in.

“Not until it cuts me off in the middle of the freeway.” Mark chuckled, and Bambam laughed forcefully.

The drive was silent mostly, with the exception of a couple exchanged words between the pair in the car, and Jackson’s obnoxious laugh that still managed to keep Bambam calm.

When they started exiting downtown, and when some villas started coming into view, Bambam sighed in relief. _Maybe he’s humble and likes to keep his car simple, but has a villa._ Bambam tried to convince himself.

His hopes fell when Mark parallel parked in front of an apartment complex. After exiting the car, the couple entered the elevator which seemed to go at half a mile per hour. Bambam took that as his chance to stand as close to Mark as he could, his hand touching the latter’s hip, while his lips met his neck.

Mark was getting fidgety, his anxiety kicking up, so with one hand, he held on to the other boy’s waist, and with the other, he kept himself up using the elevator wall. Bambam’s lips were leaving fluttery kisses up and down Mark’s neck, and the latter was getting sinful ideas.

When they reached his floor, Mark struggled to find his keys and push open his apartment door. The other man froze, looking around the apartment with confusion.

Bambam was stupefied. The kid lived in a match box!

“Nice place.” He stuck to saying.

“It’s the only place I can afford.” Mark said, embarrassed beyond words.

In Bambam’s ear, Jackson was laughing so hard, it resulted in him almost choking.

“Seems…” But before Bambam could continue, Mark interrupted.

“Reliable,” He said, chuckling. “I know.”          

Bambam laughed, sensing how the atmosphere suddenly became too awkward.

“Hey, Mark?” Bambam asked, changing the subject.

“Hmm?” Mark was too afraid to use his words.

“How old are you?”

“I’m gonna be 24 in 2 months.” Mark answered.

“He’s a kid.” Jackson huffed.

“And you’re a high-end photographer already?” Bambam casually asked.

“No, I’m graduating from university with a photography degree soon,” Mark explained. “I go to UCLA, and my instructor is a well-known photographer who was supposed to have this gig, but he couldn’t attend, so he gave it to me.”

“I see. What’s your instructor’s name?” Bambam asked.

Mark gave him a very confused look. “Is there something wrong?” He asked.

“Oh, no. I’m just curious.” Bambam shrugged.

“Oliver Michaels. You might have heard of him,” Mark said. Both Bambam and Jackson froze. The original target is associated to Mark. “I’m sorry, but does that have to do with anything?”

“No, no. I just, uh, wanted to know more about you.” Bambam smiled.

“What about you?” Mark asked.

“I’m 26.” Bambam stated, truthfully.

“You look much younger.” Mark was confused.

“Yeah, I get that a lot.” Bambam chuckled.

“Okay. I, uh, just make yourself at home. I’ll be back in a second.” Mark said, placing his camera bag, his wallet, and keys on the living room table, before he walked further into the apartment and Bambam waited until he heard a door close before he dove right onto the wallet.

“I have his wallet.” He whispered triumphantly to Jackson.

“Great, get the card, and get out.” Jackson replied.

Bambam opened the wallet and pulled out the cards. He flipped through them before he cursed.

“Fuck, Jacks, fuck.” He sighed.

“What’s there? I can’t see anything; your pin is blocked by your arm.” Jackson said.

Bambam removed his arm and showed Jackson the cards. “None of them are bank cards. They’re coupons and his student ID.”

“Shit.” Jackson said, laughing a little.

“The guy’s fucking broke, Jackson. He only has 20 bucks in his wallet.” Bambam said.

“I mean, the car and the apartment should’ve been a dead giveaway.” Jackson snickered.

“He’s in an extremely expensive suit, and he goes to UCLA, how is he broke?” Bambam whispered, putting the wallet back and slumping on the couch, the alcohol slowly rushing to his head.

“I don’t know, babe. But this is what you get for improvising.” Jackson said.

“Fuck you, Jackson. You’re not helping.” Bambam said.

“Well, I did warn you not to, but the high and mighty Kunpimook just has to do what he wants.” Jackson huffed.

“Are you gonna pick a fight now?” Bambam asked, getting angry.

“Are you gonna fuck the guy? You don’t seem to be getting up to leave.” Jackson was getting annoyed.

“You know what? I might,” Bambam challenged. “He’s fucking hot.”

“Oh, really? I dare you.” Jackson said, dead serious.

“Fine. You got it. And I’ll make you watch.” Bambam deadpanned, standing up.

“Yeah, right,” Jackson huffed, but Bambam started walking further into the apartment. “Bambam? What the fuck are you doing?”

“Going to fuck the guy.” Bambam stated.

“Very funny, now come back home,” Jackson said, voice wavering a little, but Bambam didn’t stop. “Baby, don’t do this. I was just joking, okay? Come back home and I’ll let you fuck me.” Jackson’s voice was panicky by the time Bambam started opening random doors.

“Careful what you wish for, babe. I never back up from dares.” Bambam finalized, his hand on the handle of the last door in the hallway.

With Jackson’s angry protests in his ear, Bambam pushed open the door, revealing a clean bedroom, with a single bed.

Suddenly, a door opened, and Mark walked out from what seemed like a bathroom, his face fresh, and his hair a little wet and pushed back. Before Mark could say anything, however, Bambam kicked the door close, walked up to him, and they were kissing.

There was nothing nice about the kiss; it was rough and rushed, and all Mark could taste was fruits and vodka, and he was intoxicated. With what little sense was left in him, Mark took hold of Bambam’s waist with both hands, pulling him flush against his body, leaving absolutely no space between them. Bambam, however, took control directly, his hands threading through Mark’s hair and tugging at it a little painfully. Mark let out a gasp, and Bambam took this chance to use his tongue to explore the inside of Mark’s mouth. He tasted like mint and champagne, and when his tongue moved to join the party, something cold touched Bambam’s tongue.

“Is that a tongue piercing?” Bambam pulled back to ask, lips swollen and abused.

Mark smirked, rolling his tongue out to show Bambam his under-tongue piercing. “Teenage rebellion.” He stated.

“Okay, that’s hot.” Jackson, who was still yelling angrily in Bambam’s ear, stopped to say.

But when Bambam resumed kissing Mark, Jackson continued to beg and ask his boyfriend to come home. It was when Bambam pushed Mark down on the bed when Jackson knew that he was not backing down.

“I know this is not considered cheating since I technically dared you to, but when you come home, you are gonna be punished, Bambam.” Jackson said, which earned him a chuckle from Bambam which consequently resulted in a confused look on Mark’s face.

“Take off your jacket.” Bambam commanded, and Mark wordlessly did as he was told, throwing the very expensive suit jacket somewhere on his right.

Kunpimook was a man that never gave in to anyone or anything. Yes, he does crave wealth but what he craves more is the control he gets; the feeling of being superior to those who are spoken highly of in society.

Right there in front of him, sprawled on a twin-sized bed in a rundown apartment, was a highly inferior being. A weakling; a naïve college guy who has a bright future ahead of him, but for some reason Kunpimook felt small in front of him. He felt pity for the kid who seemed so infatuated by the walking disaster that he is; for the boy who was deceived by the pretty thing that stood in front of him. But what he felt more was this burning desire that blocked his cloud of rational judgment, or was it the cocktails and meds?

Bambam’s thoughts were interrupted by Jackson. “You wouldn’t. Don’t you dare.” Jackson’s tone was both authoritative and pleading.

Bambam smirked and let out a spiteful laugh. “Fuck, who are you? I want my Bambam back.” Jackson soon added.

Mark was sat on the bed seeming to imitate the statues that he was photographing a few hours ago, but he couldn’t help it. The boy in front of him seemed like this ethereal being that was so close yet so distant, and he was afraid that if he said something or even moved a limb he would just disappear. But he didn’t, because soon enough, the other was removing his jacket, adjusting it on the chair, the shine from the Chanel pin on it hitting Mark’s sight and for some reason, he was enticed by it.

Bambam saw the younger eyeing the pin and at that he laughed. “You like it?” he purred. Mark was flustered, and his gulp echoed in his silent room, which was now suffocating the younger with the thickness of the air in it.

“Mhmmm.” he managed to mumble with a nod.

Bambam’s smile grew. “It’s very precious to me, you see. I consider it my partner in life.” Jackson let out a stiff laugh at his humor; the kid obviously oblivious to the sarcasm going on.

Mark could only stare at the blue-eyed creature in front of him, highly aware and sensitive of every move he does. Bambam was unbuttoning the sleeves of his dress shirt, exposing his wrists and then he folded them up to his elbows, then he unbuttoned the first button of the shirt, exposing just a little of his collarbones. Mark felt goose bumps at that, anticipating the next move from the older boy.

Bambam walked towards the fragile boy, ignoring the warnings that Jackson spat out and yelled in his ear piece.

“Do you find me attractive, Mark?” Bambam whispered, climbing on top of the latter. Mark quickly nodded what seemed like 30 times, not being able to look the other in the eyes. Bambam smirked and nibbled on his earlobe, giving the camera a cheeky glance.

At this point Jackson didn’t know what to feel. He was scared, and the panic in his chest at the riot from his trusted partner started to swell up, cutting his line of breath, but at the same time he couldn’t ignore the tingly feeling he got in his guts. “This really isn’t funny anymore Bamba-, fuck, what are you doing?” He gasped as Bambam started licking up Mark’s neck.

Bambam’s grasp on the latter’s face was a bit tight, but the wet sensation was enough to overlap the uncomfortable feeling with a pure sense of euphoria. Mark couldn’t control himself, the simple act had his eyes rolling and his vocal chords churning out some sound waves he didn’t know he could produce.

“This is getting in my way.” Bambam said, annoyed, as he ripped Mark’s vest and the weakling gasped (well, he’s just going to have to suffer the consequences of that later). Bambam liked the effect he had on the other, and it made him more eager to see more of those reactions, so he simply carried on.

“This too.” he said, ripping Mark’s dress shirt as well, a bit too violently, also, scratching Mark’s chest a little with his perfectly manicured nails. Bambam re-touched his manicure that morning, not being able to stand the fact that something went against his expectations, ironic right?

Mark hissed but looked the other in the eyes as if checking if he is aware of his ways. Bambam was. That turned Mark on more than what he would’ve liked, and the next thing he knows he was attacking Bambam with his lips so hurriedly their teeth clinked making them both wince but Bambam broke it before it got too deep, and he lowered his head and started sucking on Mark’s exposed and sensitive skin. The younger was a skinny, little thing, but his chest was lean, and his muscles a little defined.

At this point, Jackson’s head was heavy and his breathing was labored. He couldn’t believe himself, but he was soon ordering Bambam to strip the boy.

“Take his shirt off completely.” Bambam did just that, exposing Mark’s lean arms. He was looking the pin’s way now, a little surprised but more excited, waiting for a new demand from his boyfriend. With his hand down his pants and under his boxers, Jackson ordered Bambam to bite the boy’s arms, which will definitely bruise the boy for a while, and the latter did, earning him a throaty moan and a little gasp from Mark.

“Make out, heavy and loud. I want to hear every spit exchange from the both of you.” Bambam answered with a “Yes, sir” under his breath, and attacked the boy’s lips before he could question it. All Mark could think of at that moment was how the older boy tasted of fruity cocktails, and it made him wonder if that was the only thing that the other had today, but his thoughts were quickly interrupted when Bambam’s lips left his with a sloppy sound, and were soon uttering words with the sexiest pucker.

“What?” Mark asked, because he hadn’t heard a word. Bambam laughed at how flustered Mark was and asked again. “Do you trust me, Mark?” He batted his eyelashes.

“Uh, yes, I do, of course I do, why wouldn’t I? Fuck you’re so beaut…” Bambam interrupted him by kissing his lips again.

“You’re topping,” Jackson demanded. “I will not let anyone fuck you; your ass is mine, you hear me?”

“Have you done this before, Mark?”  Bambam scooted down to whisper in Mark’s ear.

“Done what?” Mark asked, voice hoarse.

“Bottomed.” Bambam stated, but soon sighed when Mark replied with a shaky no.

“His first time needs some prepping,” Jackson said. “You know what to do.”

“Good, wait a minute, baby.” Bambam then said and strutted towards the bathroom.

“Don’t call him that again,” Jackson barked but Bambam could only laugh at his lover’s jealousy. “Now find that razor quick.”

Bambam would’ve been mad at the demands, but he was too amused that his boyfriend was playing along, so he just replied with “Yes, my only baby” before finding for the requested object, unwrapping it, breaking the plastic off, and taking the small, squeaky clean razor under his tongue.

In the other room, Mark stood up and was quickly unbuckling the belt on the pants, uttering so many “shits” and “fucks”, before the older boy came back.

“Tsk, someone’s impatient.” Bambam ticked his tongue, his speech heavy as he was weary of the razor under it.

“Can I please see you now?” Mark pleaded extending his bare arms to the latter’s shirt, receiving a smack on his arm. “With your mouth.” Bambam ordered.

“Who are you?” Jackson exclaimed, surprised that his boyfriend would let such a chaotic act happen to his beloved expensive suit.

Mark did just what he was asked for, although it proved to be a nearly impossible thing, but what came after the labor was so worth it; Mark was surprised that he managed. Bambam was quickly undressed and topless, and the younger couldn’t resist his tanned skin, gripping him and kissing him heavily everywhere his lips can touch, before he was yanked back by the hair, and deprived of the taste.

“I’m going to ask you again, Mark. Do you trust me?”

The boy didn’t reply fast enough, so Bambam slapped him lightly, but the latter seemed to only enjoy it, so he smirked, turning to face Bambam, biting his lower lip as a sign of him not wanting to reply back.

“Defiance won’t help you, darling.” Bambam breathed into his neck before biting it. “That’s better, call him darling.” Jackson remarked, almost forgotten, but he had been too silent since he was enjoying this and was too busy stroking himself anyway.

Bambam threw Mark on the bed again; he couldn’t stand the taste of metal anymore, so he gripped the younger by the throat, and whispered into his ear. “Pain and pleasure go hand in hand, they say,” he took out the razor from underneath his tongue, making sure the boy identified the object before he proceeded. When he saw that Mark was being obedient, waiting for him to go on, giving him his consent, he continued. “But no one mentions that pain is just a path to more pleasure. Do you trust me, Mark?”*

Mark’s eyes went dark, and he couldn’t see or feel his body anymore because of the lust overdrive that was taking over, so he nodded and gasped out a “fuck, yes” before the older boy got on top of him, and started softly pressing the razor onto his chest, whilst softly grinding his groin on Mark’s.

Before Bambam could slide the sharp razor on the soft skin of Mark’s chest more, Mark let out a shout of protest. “Let me at least undress you first,” he nodded to Bambam’s pants. “Please?” His voice was too soft, and very sexy, so Bambam broke to his pleas and was soon being caressed and slowly undressed by the cold, sweaty hands of Mark.

Now they were both only in their boxer shorts; with less layers between them, they could obviously feel each other’s stiffness, and Mark was satisfied, before a painful sensation hit his chest as Bambam was slowly cutting him. Nothing too tragic or severe that it would leave a scar for life, but the pain was there nonetheless, and so was the blood after it.

Bambam licked and sucked at the wound while rocking his hips on the other’s, and Mark’s brain was hurriedly trying to register all the sensations at once.

“Hurry up, baby, I’m getting close.” Jackson called for his boyfriend, and then Bambam slightly nodded, knowing the other has his burning stare on him and Mark, and would notice every movement done by the two. Bambam saw how Mark enjoyed it a bit too much because of his moans, and his inability to stay still, so he asked, “Any requests?”

Mark replied with “thigh”, earning a laugh from Jackson and a declaration of “I like this kid.”

Bambam slid his body down, and angled his face to run the razor dangerously close to Mark’s crotch. He made sure to take care of Mark’s cock too, by gripping the clothed member with his hand, and rubbing it slowly, since that area is very sensitive and has a lot of pain nerves.

Mark moaned loudly and wondered if he’d ever have better intercourse in his life after this and if the marks will stay forever to haunt him and mock him about it. The room was a bit dark so he couldn’t really see Bambam’s scars as he was being scarred himself.

Bambam was getting too riled up by Mark’s throaty moans, and Mark noticed how he was at a disadvantage since he’s the one with the bruises and scars, so he smacked Bambam’s ass a bit too hard to adjust the level of power, but soon after that, he was receiving a harsh slap from the older, and Bambam was not the only one tasting blood anymore.

“Turn around, and don’t try to be mischievous.” Bambam ordered, and Mark obediently did what he was told, with his ears still ringing from that slap. _Another bruise added to the list,_ Mark thought bitterly.

“Hands and knees, darling.” Bambam taunted, putting the razor on a nearby shelf, and Mark lifted himself up. Bambam moved to remove the only fabric left on their bodies, and in no time, both their boxers were on the floor.

Bambam walked to Mark’s nightstand, flaunting his goods for both of the other two boys to see. Mark and Jackson simultaneously groaned, and Bambam’s dick stood up more at the attention. With careful hands, he opened Mark’s drawer, and fidgeted around for condoms. When he was taking one out, dinosaur vitamins fell on the floor, and Mark bit his bottom lip, embarrassed, but Bambam ignored it, picking up the bottle of lube he found. He walked back and stood behind Mark, running his fingers on the younger boy’s spine, making him shiver.

Bambam ripped the foil off the condom with his teeth, with Mark and Jackson both obviously watching him. He expertly rolled the rubber on his length, giving it a few strokes just to hear the other boys’ intake of breath. He then grabbed Mark’s hips and pulled him back, giving his plump ass a kiss, before he got to work.

After coating his fingers with lube, Bambam made sure to be gentle on the younger boy, since a human being can handle so much, especially since it’s Mark’s first time. Something inside Bambam’s heart was tugging him to be gentle to the kid under him, but he had to put on an act for his significant other. And just like that, Bambam grabbed the boy by the hips and with gentle back kisses and hums, one of his fingers circling around Mark’s hole causing him to moan.

Jackson was piercingly quiet on the other line, and Bambam felt the intense need to make it up for the suffering that Mark had to endure for the pleasure of the other boy.

Bambam continued to kiss Mark’s back, distracting him as his finger slowly penetrated Mark’s virgin hole. Mark groaned with both pleasure and pain, but as the fingers started adding and with Bambam’s gentle strokes, his ring of muscle relaxed, soon getting used to the stretch and Mark was now begging for more. 

“Nice and slow, baby.” Jackson demanded, grabbing his own length ready for the other to fuck the submissive boy.

Bambam, who had 3 fingers inside Mark, decided that the younger was now ready. So, he slowly pulled his fingers out, added lube to his hand, and covered his cock with the slippery substance. With his lips on Mark’s back, and his hands buried deep into his hips, Bambam lined his dick with Mark’s entrance, and slowly drove it in. Mark mewled loudly, and Bambam gave him a moment to adjust to the feeling. After Mark calmed down a little, he nodded for the other boy to proceed, and Bambam took it as his cue to start moving.

The black-haired boy pulled his dick out almost to the tip, then he slammed back into the younger who soon enough became a panting mess. It took him a little while, but with Jackson’s labored breath in his ear, and Mark’s pleasured moans, Bambam found his pace, and was thrusting into Mark.

Mark was moaning so hard, calling out a name that Bambam had yet to get used to. “Bellamy, oh g-god, fuck, harder, p-please, I’m fuck, please.” Bambam winced at that name but continued to thrust into him, quickening his pace, and hitting the younger’s prostate with every thrust; Mark was damned to be the one to cum first.

As their thighs hit each other loudly, Jackson caught on to their rhythm. It went on for a while, and Bambam’s senses were on override. When Mark started saying that he was close, Bambam pulled him up so Mark’s back was against his chest. Mark’s hands circled around Bambam’s neck for support as the older boy continued to fuck him. Bambam reached for Mark’s cock and took it in his hand, giving it a few strokes, beckoning Mark to reach his climax.

Not too long after, Mark was almost screaming curses, and his whole body started quivering. With one more stroke from Bambam, Mark was spilling his load on the gray sheets of the bed, his dick twitching in Bambam’s hand. The latter stroked him through his high, and kept fucking into him until he heard Jackson groan and in a second, he was releasing into the condom. Bambam let Mark fall down on the bed, and he rested his face against his back until his breathing slowed down a little.

When they came down from their highs, Bambam pulled out of Mark, and discarded the condom in the bathroom, returning with a wet towel to clean himself up, and the weak boy who was now breathing shallowly.

Bambam cleaned up the most he can, with Mark throwing him lazy smiles and Jackson telling him how much he loves him. After that, he was too exhausted to even move a muscle, but he had to go back home to Jackson.

“Don’t leave now.” Mark’s soft voice said, his hand closing in around Bambam’s before he could get dressed.

“I should get home.” Bambam said, eyes softening at Mark’s pout.

“Please? Just for the night?” Mark pleaded, pulling Bambam down so he was sat on the bed. With fluttery kisses being left on his hand, and forehead, and Jackson’s silence on the other end, Bambam was having an internal conflict.

With a defeated sigh, Bambam fell onto the bed next to the sweaty boy, and in a second they were out like a light. Jackson tried to tell Bambam that he had to get home, but when he saw how tired he looked, he decided that he can handle himself. So, he turned off the monitor, carried himself all the way up to their bedroom before he face-planted onto the bed, not even bothering to change out of his dirty sweats.

At around 4AM, a flustered Bambam woke up to an unfamiliar scene around him. His anxiousness picked up; his head was heavy and he felt sluggish- a clear sign of a horrible hangover approaching. After he grasped the product of the acts he had done a couple of hours earlier, he slowly went on to dress himself, before he left a little kiss on Mark’s pouted lips.

Bambam broke so many of his life rules that night, so he didn’t bother to fix himself properly before he threw the blazer onto his shoulder and walked out of Mark’s apartment, being careful not to wake up the cute, snoring boy who was dozed off in heavy sleep.

Bambam left with the intention of never returning, but he was unaware that his Chanel pin had fallen off, and was now resting in the corner of Mark’s room, just under his desk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuses for this smut, other than the fact that my co-writer is a twisted fuck with a lot of kinks. I hope you enjoyed it ._. Buckle up for more angst and smut and loads of fluff coming soon.
> 
> *Disclaimer: the quote that Bam said about pain and pleasure is not ours!!! it's a quote from Tove Lo's Cool Girl MV.


	6. vi. Strawberry Frappe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark was relentless, and Jackson wasn't helping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! Mention of drugs. Other than that, it's just a load of fluff and word-play

"MOTHERFUCKER!" Jackson woke up from his heavy sleep to the sound of screaming and things breaking downstairs. Once he registered completely what was going on and whose voice it was, he quickly rushed downstairs.

The sight was a bit too much for him to swallow, so he stopped dead in his tracks and stared at the scene in front of him. Bambam was having one of his panic fits again, and it seemed like one of the bad ones.

Bambam always liked to number the severity of his fits so Jackson would know what he was dealing with; it was a safety measure that became a habit for the both of them. The younger noticed Jackson up the stairs and quickly said "9" with a shaky voice, before continuing to throw random objects to the floor beside him- anything he could get his hands on; soon enough, half of the living room was shattered. Bambam was barefoot and with one bad step, the night would end at the hospital, something both boys know they can't afford with their fake identities.

Luckily, Jackson was soon rushing to embrace his lover before he could move or break anything else. He gripped him tight, letting Bambam scratch at his arms and even bite his chest letting out shouts of panic. "I fucked up Jackson, I fucked up! Oh my God, I failed you and I failed myself! I let my guard down, I'm useless." the younger hurriedly started gasping out as he wept.

Bambam had arrived home at around 5AM, and he was hanging his blazer on the coatrack when he noticed that his Chanel pin was missing. He looked for it everywhere; in his pockets, on the floors, even on the road outside, but when he noticed that it wasn’t anywhere, worry settled in. Before panic could take over his senses, Bambam rushed to the basement and turned on Jackson’s monitor, remembering how to open up the mini-cam feed. However, all he could see was pitch-black darkness.

That’s when all hell broke loose. With a panic attack racking through his body, he ran back upstairs to the living room. He was intending to make it all the way up to the bedroom to wake Jackson up, but his lungs were giving out, his heart was beating way too fast, and his tears were blurring his vison. Soon enough, he lost all control, and that’s when he started throwing anything in his sight. Unconsciously, it was to wake Jackson up and alert him, but it was also a way to let all the frustration out.

Now, with Jackson’s arms around him, he felt like he had failed.

"You never did and you never will, baby. You are my everything, how can you ever underestimate your worth like that?" Jackson slowly rocked the weeping boy before stroking his head.

It took a couple of minutes, but once Bambam's breathing stabilized against Jackson's chest, the older picked him up so he wouldn't cut himself and walked him out of the living room.

"What’s wrong, baby? Is it about the mission? It's okay we've had these before, the target never showing up. We'll be out on our next mission as soon as possible and everything will work out just fine, I promise." Jackson said, using his thumbs to wipe the tears off Bambam’s damp cheek, then kissing his forehead. He then went on to stare his lover in the eyes to get a response but Bambam's eyes were fixed on the ground.

"My Chanel pin, I can't...I can't find it. It's not on my suit! Jackson how can I be such a fuck up." Bambam’s voice was starting to waver, become shaky again, but his speech was interrupted by kisses from his lover.

"We have a tracer on every single one of the equipment we own, remember? It was your suggestion too. You're so smart and sharp, and you have everything calculated down by the detail, and I'd be a sloppy schemer without you, baby. No need for a fit, we'll easily trace it down tomorrow, but now you need to get your cute ass washed and in bed okay?” Jackson brushed the younger’s hair backwards, caressing his cheeks.

“But what if we don’t find it? What if someone else found it and the police tracked it back to us? What if, what if…” Bambam’s eyes were flowing with tears again, but Jackson was quick to run his thumbs in circles on the back of the younger’s neck, and leave butterfly kisses all over his face, focusing on his eyes, nose, and forehead.

“Baby, we’ll find it, okay? It’s almost 6 in the morning. For the meantime, we’re gonna go to bed, and sleep. When we wake up, we will track it, and figure out how to get it back okay?” Jackson softly said, and Bambam breathed in and out to calm himself down.

“Okay.” The younger whispered in a small voice.

“Now, you’re gonna go take a warm shower while I clean the glass off the floor." Bambam nodded before he buried his face in Jackson’s chest giving it a kiss.

“I love you.” He said.

“I love you too, my little baby,” Jackson replied. “Don't forget to take your meds; they’re on the bedside table.” Bambam nodded again before he went up the stairs to shower and Jackson stayed behind to clean the mess that was created by the former. Jackson slightly laughed at the sight ahead of him, amused how such a petite figure can do so much damage.

The clock was ticking around 6 am and the sun rays started burning Jackson's eyes as he finally swept the last of the broken glass. When he went upstairs again, he found his partner in bed with his glasses on, typing frantically on his laptop. The room smelled of jasmine, Bambam’s favorite shampoo.

Jackson let out a sigh before he said "Didn't I tell you to rest? Baby, it's morning and you've had little sleep." he lightly slapped Bambam's butt for him to scoot. When Jackson looked at the screen he saw that the boy had already traced the pin down, and had written down the plan by every step to get it back.

Jackson did not bother to get into the plan because he was too tired for work, so he slowly rested his back on the pillow before removing the laptop from the younger's grip, and pulled him to his usual koala position, before Bambam could protest.

"You never fail to amaze me, Kunpimook; that's a new record for you, less than hour, and you have managed to get everything back in order," Jackson laughed softly, then kissed his boyfriend’s forehead. "Never a dull moment with you, baby." he remarked, but the human koala was already deeply dozed off to reply.

-

“Jackson-ah.” A little voice said next to Jackson’s ear, but he just hummed and turned his face to the other side to continue his sleep.

“Jackieee.” The voice nagged again, but now with kisses being left on Jackson’s back.

“Go away.” Jackson slurred, pulling the covers over his head, cocooning himself.

“Baaaabe. Get up.” Bambam continued to say, using his baby voice that Jackson can’t resist most of the time.

Jackson groaned, pushing Bambam aside with one hand and picking up a pillow with the other. He put the pillow over his head to block Bambam’s nagging, but the younger was relentless.

“Jackson!! It’s 12PM already! We should go get the pin!” Bambam huffed, poking Jackson repeatedly.

“Your plan starts at 2PM!! We need like 30 minutes to get there! So just let me sleep.” Jackson sighed.

“Yeah, but we have to shower, and get ready, and I’m starving so you need to make me breakfast.” Bambam removed the pillow from Jackson’s face and started stroking his hair, occasionally trying to force his eyes to open. Jackson just shut them tighter.

“Bammie.” He sighed, swatting Bambam’s hand away and putting the pillow back over his face.

“Fine. Just to let you know, I’m naked and a little stiff, and I’m going to take a shower right now, so you either stay asleep or you join me.” Bambam shrugged, but at his declaration, Jackson threw the pillow across the room and shot up; only to be disappointed by the fact that Bambam was in fact, fully dressed and ready to leave.

“You don’t look naked to me.” Jackson said bitterly.

“I’m sorry, baby. But you’re up already, so you are gonna get your cute ass into the shower, then get dressed like the eye-candy you are so we can have breakfast and then go get my beloved pin back.” Bambam grinned, dropping a kiss on Jackson’s scowl.

Jackson’s face relaxed at his adorable partner, then he cupped the younger’s face in his hand.

“Is my baby hungry?” He asked. Bambam leaned into Jackson’s touch and nodded, giving him puppy dog eyes.

“Fine, I’ll get up.” Jackson sighed, knowing that he can never say no to Bambam.

Bambam grinned, kissing Jackson long and hard before he grabbed his iPad and ran downstairs to wait for breakfast. Jackson showered and got dressed in around 20 minutes; his outfit basically consisted of black pants, a white t-shirt, and a black leather jacket, with his black boots and a black cap. Yes, everything was black, not like his soul, because Jackson’s soul was mostly rainbows and sunshine, but he preferred dark clothes so he wouldn’t stand out in a crowd; Bambam was, after all, flashy enough for the both of them.

When Jackson got downstairs, Bambam was sitting at the kitchen bar, playing Angry Birds on his iPad. Jackson dropped a kiss on the younger’s head before he realized that they have nothing that can make a good breakfast. They need to go grocery shopping.

“Come on, Bam. We’re going out for breakfast.”

The younger jumped at the suggestion, running straight to the garage where the car was parked. On his way out, Jackson grabbed his laptop, and his portable wi-fi router.

Once in the car, Bambam was quick to connect the AUX to his phone and play some pop songs; the kind that annoyed Jackson, but his boyfriend was singing along, so he did not comment about it.

“Someone’s in a good mood.” Jackson remarked, throwing the younger a glance.

“Yeah, maybe it’s the meds. I don’t know. I just feel light.” Bambam replied, taking Jackson’s hand that was on his thigh in his, lacing their fingers together.

“Light’s good, baby.” Jackson smiled.

The ride continued like that, until they reached a diner, a little far from the city. They had about an hour to spare, so they took a booth at the very end of the diner, and Bambam ordered so much more than he can eat. With heaps of eggs and bacon in front of him, and a big stack on pancakes, Bambam started explaining the plan to Jackson and how he found out that the pin was at Mark’s place (which wasn’t surprising really, but Bambam’s panic mixed with alcohol made him assume the worst), while the latter hacked into Mark’s university student portal to retrieve his schedule.

“Okay, so he has a class at 11, then a class at 2:30.” Jackson said, his mouth full of the pancakes Bambam fed him.

“So, he’s not home.” Bambam stated the obvious.

“Well, he shouldn’t be,” Jackson said, closing his laptop to continue his breakfast. “It should be fairly easy to get in and get out.”

“That’s what you said last night.” Bambam giggled.

“Which reminds me that we should talk about last night.” Jackson pointed out.

“Don’t pretend that you didn’t enjoy it.” Bambam rolled his eyes.

“I’m not pretending anything,” Jackson stated, munching on some bacon. “I’m just saying that when my boyfriend sleeps with another guy out of spite, we should probably talk about it.”

“We will, I promise.” Bambam said, grabbing Jackson’s hand from across the table, and stuffing his face with a forkful of food simultaneously.

Jackson let out a laugh, scrunching his nose at his boyfriend. “God, you’re so fucking adorable.” He squealed.

“Excuse me, young men,” An old lady on the table close to theirs said. “Can you please stop displaying affection in front of the kids? It’s disgusting and rude.”

“Excuse me?” Jackson whipped his head to look at her in disbelief. “I’m only holding his hand.”

“Yes, but you are both men and you should not be doing that. It’s unnatural, and it’s making us uncomfortable.” She said, with a judgmental look on her face.

Bambam’s face went red, and he tried to pull his hand away, but Jackson gripped it tighter. Bambam is never one to be scared or ashamed of PDA, and he is never one to accept such shit, but now, when he looked embarrassed, Jackson decided that he was still too fragile from his breakdown, and the lady was making him uncomfortable.

“Excuse me, old lady,” Jackson’s voice was angry. “Can you please stop displaying homophobia in front of the kids? It’s disgusting and rude.”

The old lady gasped, and looked offended, while some of the nearby tables and the staff stopped to witness what was happening.

“You are showing prejudice and discrimination. It’s unnatural, and it’s making us uncomfortable.” Jackson continued.

Some of the people watching started cheering and clapping, but Jackson was quick to dodge the attention. He grabbed his wallet and threw a hundred-dollar bill on the table, before he grabbed his things in one hand, and Bambam’s hand in the other.

“Come on, baby, we’re leaving.”

Bambam stood up wordlessly, but before they could walk away he threw a nasty glare at the woman and said, “Thanks for ruining our breakfast. Have a good day.”

When they got to the car, Jackson was fuming, but after a hug and a couple of kisses from his boyfriend, he calmed down.

“I’m sorry, this must’ve ruined your mood.” Jackson apologized to the younger, burying his face in his shoulder.

“Don’t be, baby. You were amazing. My mood’s okay.” Bambam smiled.

“Let’s go get that pin and get home, already. I want to have a nice evening with you in the jacuzzi.” Jackson said, a smile gracing his face.

“Hmm, sounds great.” Bambam hummed, before Jackson started driving off.

They parked the car a little down the road from Mark’s apartment complex. The plan was that Bambam would break into Mark’s apartment, retrieve the pin and leave while Jackson stays in the car and keeps watch. It was a good thing that Bambam had his ear piece with him, so after they made sure that they had a connection, Bambam got out of the car.

-

Mark woke up at around 10AM, distraught and alone in his bed, his head pounding and the bottom half of his body aching like a bitch. He was still in shock, kind of, in disbelief of what had happened the night before; it felt so surreal to him, like a dream that he would suddenly wake up from. But the pain in his body and the angry red marks on his chest, hips, and thighs proved to him that it was real, and that indeed, he had the wildest sex of his life (yet) with probably the most destructive yet beautiful person he has ever met; A person who had left him in the middle of the night, with nothing for him to reach him again; not a phone number, not an address, and not even a goodbye.

It saddened Mark, really; because when he was dozing off to sleep, he had a warm body next to him, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he felt, okay? Maybe. But he was definitely less lonely. Now however, the emptiness was back, in his bed, and in his heart, if he shall be a little melodramatic.

After a long shower and a breakfast made of two slices of plain, white bread, Mark decided that it was already too late for his 11AM class, so he went back to his room to clean up a little and get dressed. While he was pulling the sheets of his bed, and his discarded clothes off the floor, he noticed two things that made him stop dead in his tracks and rethink life. _One_ , he ruined Youngjae’s uncle’s extremely expensive suit. The vest was in two pieces, the pants were crumbled up and the blazer smelled of smoke and pinecones because of the air freshener that was still in the pocket. Safe to say, Youngjae was going to murder him.

 _Two_ , although _One_ would probably end his life, made him feel giddy inside. In the corner of his room, under his desk, where he would have totally missed it, was something silver and shiny. Mark bent down to pick the object, and when he saw what it was, a smile broke on his face. In his hand, he had Bellamy’s Chanel pin; his partner in life, as he phrased it.

“He is bound to come ask for it back.” Mark said to no one in particular, but he was too damn happy to care that he was talking to himself. He safely hid the pin in the one place that no one would ever think to look; in one of his old university books. Mark thought that he was a clever fuck, but really, it was an extremely cliché idea. He had hollowed out the book and made a space to hide things, like his weed stash (he might be an A student, but he still enjoyed weed to no extent). So, naturally, he ripped open the weed bag and buried the pin inside, before he closed the book, and put it under the pile of all the other university books he had. After he smiled triumphally at the strategic and well-thought plan that had brewed in his head, Mark got dressed to leave to uni.

He decided on wearing ripped jeans, with one of his usual over-seized t-shirts, and his glasses because his eyes were too sore for contact lenses; he would just grab a jacket and a hat on his way out. At around 2, Mark was making his way out of the elevator and into the lobby, with his hat over his head, and a jacket in his hand along with his camera bag, when his luck stroke again.

-

A yawn escaped Bambam’s mouth as he put on his hat, sunglasses, and mask, and walked up the street. He strutted nonchalantly towards the entrance of the apartment complex and adjusted the collar of his jacket to cover his neck. “Way to be subtle about breaking into an apartment.” Jackson humored into his earpiece.

“Shut up, it’s a bit chilly outside. Nobody would suspect.” Bambam bit back.

“Chilly?! Bambam, it’s like 32 degrees Celsius. We’re in LA.” But before Bambam could argue back the elevator door was opening to reveal a slim figure that Bambam soon recognized as Mark, and before he could escape his sight, Mark was already jogging towards him.

“Fuck, did I mention that I fucking hate LA.” Jackson sighed, but all Bambam could hear was the calls of the younger.

“Bellamy?” Mark jogged faster. “It’s you, I know it is, Bellamy, I recognized that ass. Stop walking so fast.” Bambam was now outside of the building and in Jackson’s line of vision, and he stopped when he heard Mark’s next shout. “I know you’re here for your pin. I have it upstairs.”

The younger was now grabbing Bambam by the wrists, all while Jackson was cursing out all sorts profanities. Mark soon after yanked the latter closer to him hands on his hips as he leaned in. “I missed you last night, why did you leave so fast?” he whispered and Bambam could feel his breath on what was exposed of his face. He smelled of mint wash, the one that Jackson used a lot and it made Bambam shiver a bit.

“Uh? Because he has a boyfriend at home, you dweeb.” Jackson remarked huffing into Bambam’s earpiece. Bambam at this point was too flustered to reply to either, feeling the sense panic from yesterday’s event dancing on his throat. Mark seemed to notice the other’s behavior, so he quickly grabbed his wrist again, tugging on him in an attempt to drag him all the way up to his apartment. “Come on, you don’t look that well. Let me make you some tea.” Mark added.

Jackson seemed to pick on Bambam’s behavior too since, 1. He was uncharacteristically quiet and 2. From what he saw from the car he wasn’t really moving at all considering he let Mark hold him.

 “Go, baby, go with him. It’s okay, we need the pin. Just go get it and come up with some excuse like your water broke or something and just sprint out.” Jackson’s humor and reassurance seemed to do the trick because Bambam let out a giggle as he was being dragged into the elevator by the youngest, but before he could feel any better, Mark hit the emergency button and blocked it with his back, to face Bambam.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you today; I even dreamt about you.” Mark laughed, a bit flustered by his confession to the other. Bambam just stared at him, so he continued. “Can I?” he gestured to Bambam’s glasses but removed them anyway without waiting for the other’s permission, and Bambam flinched.

“Oh, your eyes aren’t blue.” Mark said, taken aback.

“No, they’re not. I’m Asian you shouldn’t have expected that anyway. Can we move now? I have things to do.” Bambam tried to push the other out of the way, but Mark was stronger.

“I like your natural eyes better.” He smiled, and Bambam rolled his eyes but he couldn’t ignore the flutter in his stomach.

“Hand that bitch ass the earpiece, and I’ll give him a word or two to make him move.” Jackson barked out, but before he could continue his rant, Mark was already pushing the button to his floor.

 

Mark’s tea was really sweet; too sweet for Bambam’s taste, and soon enough Bambam was pushing the glass further away from him before he spoke.

“So…about my pin.” Mark swallowed fast to reply but the tea was hot on his throat so he coughed.

“You really fluster the kid, man” Jackson laughed and so did Bambam before handing Mark a tissue from his kitchen stand.

Mark grabbed onto Bambam’s hand again and pulled him closer. For some reason Bambam couldn’t really protest being manhandled; the warmth of the other’s hand radiating towards his felt nice, and even though it was pretty hot outside (which he would never admit to Jackson) he couldn’t help but want more.

“Thank you,” Mark tried to touch Bambam’s face but the latter moved it. “I really missed you.”

“You already mentioned that, and it’s been less than 24 hours since you last saw me, you really should work on your self-control. Now please give me my pin.” Bambam shot back, and Mark bit his lip, a bit annoyed, but soon after, he said, “It’s hidden in my apartment, go out with me and I’ll give it back to you.” his tone sounding mischievous.

“If you don’t slap him in 5 seconds, Bambam, I’m getting out of this fucking car.” Jackson growled, but Bambam was too busy running towards Mark’s bedroom, locking the door hurriedly, not allowing its owner to enter.

“You know, you’re really not that funny.” Bambam remarked as he opened Mark’s desk drawers and threw the contents on the ground.

“Really? Then why am I entertained?” Mark said, letting out a soft giggle, his body pressed on his bedroom door. He was amused with all the huffs and noises coming out from inside his bedroom, but he jumped in surprise when the older boy banged on the door and let out an annoyed hiss “Fucker!”

Bambam was now in Mark’s closet, frantically going through Mark’s pockets and shoes, but he found nothing, other than piles upon piles of oversized clothes.

“Okay!” Bambam yanked open the bedroom door, and gave Mark a shove. “Listen here, I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but that pin is really important to me and I fucking need it now!”

“Then go out with me!” Mark seemed to softly yell back. “Just for coffee, nothing more, really! Just one conversation.” he re-adjusted his hat on his head and waited for the other to reply. Jackson sighed knowing that this event shouldn’t be dragged on more, so he simply told Bambam to go for that coffee. “It’s not that big of a deal, just go. I’m exhausted and I know you are too, so go and let him give you your pin back.”

Bambam bit his bottom lip at the elder’s words. “Okay, _one fucking coffee_ , that’s all you get.”

Mark full-on smiled, exposing his canine teeth and Bambam couldn’t help himself but stare.

“I wonder how his teeth would feel biting my skin.” he thought; he had to mentally slap himself at that.

“He seems like he really likes you, Bambam. He’s relentless,” Jackson said. “Thank God he’s cute though.” For some reason, Jackson didn’t really get that bothered with the kid’s behavior. He couldn’t really blame him; after all he’s known Bambam for almost 23 years now and he still doesn’t get enough of him or his beauty. Maybe Jackson was curious to know more about the kid who he seemed to curse at a few minutes ago. It confused him, so he gave it no further thought.

During the night when Bambam fucked the kid into oblivion, Jackson noticed a little air freshener peek out of Mark’s suit jacket when it was thrown and ignored on Mark’s carpet, and he couldn’t but laugh mid-session; that kid was weirdly special and it somehow reminded him of his young, naïve self that would have likely done such a quirky thing.

Before they left, and under Bambam’s intense stare, Mark walked over to his book shelf, grabbed the secret book, and carefully removed the pin from between all the weed.

“Is that your weed stash?” Bambam asked, a little amused.

“He smokes pot? Damn, I’m liking the kid even more.” Jackson laughed.

“Yeah, but don’t go reporting me to the police or anything,” Mark laughed. “I’m already blackmailing you, so I don’t need more accusations.”

“As if, hon. Who’s gonna report you? Bambam? Bellamy? Brice? Ben?” Jackson scoffed.

“Don’t worry. I don’t believe in the police.” Bambam rolled his eyes.

“Cool,” Mark smirked, then started walking away. “Let’s go. I’m driving.”

With Mark’s back turned, Bambam thought he had a chance to grab the pin from his pocket, but Mark knew that he would attempt something like that, so he smirked and moved away when Bambam started getting too close.

“We have a deal, Bellamy,” Mark’s voice was amused beyond reason, and it annoyed Bambam even more. “A coffee date for your pin.”

“Feisty.” Jackson commented.

“Listen, I might be going on this date with you, but that doesn’t mean I have to enjoy it.” Bambam crossed his arms over his chest and walked to the door.

“We’ll see.” Mark smirked.

“I guess we’re having coffee.” Jackson said, and Bambam could hear the sound of the car being turned on.

-

At the café, Bambam pulled out the chair roughly, and slumped down on it, with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

“So, Bellamy, how do you like your coffee?” Mark asked politely.

“Black. Dark. Bitter,” Bambam replied, smiling evilly at Mark. “I don’t like sweet things.” He made sure to emphasize.

“Hmm, I see,” Mark ignored the attitude. “I’ll get our drinks and get back here. You just stay _pinned_ in your place.” That little fucker.

Jackson howled a laughter, and a few minutes later, while Bambam huffed and puffed with annoyance, a figure clad in black entered the coffee shop and sat down on a table not too close but not too far from Bambam and Mark’s.

“Jackson, what the fuck?” Bambam whispered to his boyfriend. Although Jackson’s face was covered with his hat, Bambam could still see his cheeky smile.

“I ain’t staying in the car while you have coffee, babe.” Jackson replied.

“What if he sees you?” Bambam asked.

“Relax, he’s too smitten by you to notice anyone else.” Jackson said, then pointed at where Mark was standing at the counter.

Bambam turned to look, and he saw that there was a group of teenage girls (and the barista) staring at Mark with literal heart-eyes. Even when the barista threw Mark a grin, it went unnoticed.

“Either the kid is too thick or too dumb.” Bambam stated.

“Or, he really likes you.” Jackson added.

“You shouldn’t be encouraging this, love.” Bambam said.

“I’m not, it’s just that who wouldn’t?” Jackson said in a soft voice.

“I fucking love you, Jackson Jia-er.” Bambam’s heart was melting in a puddle.

“I love fucking you too,” Jackson said, then he corrected himself. “I mean, I fucking love you too, Bambam Kunpimook.”

Bambam couldn’t reply because Mark was taking a seat across of him, sliding a steaming cup of black coffee his way.

“So.” He said.

“So.” Mark replied.

“Ask him something,” Jackson huffed, hiding his face behind a menu so he could speak. “I should take you on more dates.”

Bambam, against his will, searched for something to ask about, and when Mark raised his hand to take sip from his drink (a strawberry Frappe, Bambam noted. Too sweet, exactly like him), Bambam noticed a scar mark on his wrist.

“I didn’t notice that scar last night.” Bambam blurted out, pointing at Mark’s wrist, and the latter looked a little confused.

“Oh, yeah. The scar,” He awkwardly said. The truth is, he got that scar from when he accidentally burned himself while trying to iron his shirt, but that was not something you tell a hot guy on a date, so he raked his brain for a cool story and finally settled on something. “I burned myself when I was trying to save a dog from a fire. My hand accidentally touched a hot metal rod and I got this scar.” Mark was fidgeting with his straw while he was talking, and he actively avoided Bambam’s eyes.

Expert bluffers Bambam and Jackson both noticed the lie, so Bambam scoffed and said, “You fucking liar. Stop bluffing.”

Mark looked defeated, then he smiled, embarrassed. “Okay, fine. There goes my chance to impress my hot date,” he sighed then continued. “I had an interview, and I was running late, so I accidentally burned my wrist while I was ironing my shirt. Nearly caused a fire and almost had to rescue my dog, but my friend, Youngjae, saved me and Coco.”

“Coco?” Bambam asked.

“Yeah, uh. The dog I share with Youngjae. She really is my dog, and I really did save her; given, it was from the pound not a burning fire, but that still counts, right?” Mark asked.

Bambam couldn’t help but laugh; it really was such an endearing sight.

“Ask him what’s her breed.” Jackson said, excited.

“What’s her breed?” Bambam asked.

“She’s a Maltese.” Mark said, sounding like a proud father.

“Let him show you pictures.” Jackson was getting too excited, but Bambam ignored him.

“So, do you have any friends other than that Youngjae?” Bambam asked.

“Hmm, not really,” Mark smiled sadly. “My high school friends drifted apart and no one in university likes the nerdy A student. Well, unless they need help with something. Youngjae is just a none-bullshitter. He’s just Youngjae. He tells me things right to my face; he’s real and transparent, and he doesn’t care about how I live my life. He just, supports me, I guess. He keeps me alive, that’s for sure. Saves my ass most of the time. Just yesterday he went over and above to get me the suit.”

“The one you completely annihilated, babe.” Jackson remarked and Bambam’s eyes widened.

“The one I tore.” Bambam stated and Mark chuckled.

“Don’t worry about it,” He sweetly said. “It was worth it.”

Bambam’s face flamed up, and Jackson was cooing like he just witnessed the cutest thing ever. Which really wasn’t typical boyfriend behavior, but it was Jackson after all.

“I’ll get you a new one.” Bambam said, feeling guilty.

“Unless you plan on ripping it off me, you don’t have to.” Mark smiled.

“Damn, that kid is smooth.” Jackson chuckled, and Bambam did too.

“You really are something else, Mark Tuan.” Bambam smiled at the boy in front of him.

“See, I told you that you would enjoy the date.” Mark looked triumphant. Bambam didn’t deny it.

The pair sat in silence for a while, sipping on their drinks and giving each other discreet looks. It was Mark who broke the silence. “Give me your number.” He demanded.

“You really don’t know how this works, do you?” Bambam asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. “You keep demanding things, you never ask for them.”

“Would you say yes if I ask?” Mark raised an eyebrow.

“No, but it’s nice if I had a say in it.” Bambam shrugged.

“I wouldn’t want you to have a say if you keep turning me down.” Mark commented.

Bambam sighed then said, “Listen, Mark. Whatever this is, whatever you believe might happen between us, it’s not going anywhere.”

“Why not?” Mark asked, looking sad and small.

“Because I have a boyfriend.” Bambam wanted to say, but instead, he settled on, “Because I’m not staying for long.”

“So? It’s the age of technology. We don’t have to be next to each other to be together.” Mark replied.

“Long-distance relationships almost never work out.” Bambam rolled his eyes.

“You can’t know that.” Mark huffed.

“It’s not me saying it, but statistics.” Bambam said.

“No, this is just an excuse, not the real reason.” Mark noted.

“I’m a busy person, Mark. And I’m not good with relationships. My work takes up the most of my life, and I barely have time to breathe.” Bambam exhaled heavily.

“That’s okay. Because I’m a busy person too. Sometimes I’m too busy I forget to eat or sleep, but we’ll make time. This is how relationships work.” Mark finally said.

“You’re never gonna give up, are you?” Bambam rolled his eyes.

“Nope.” Mark smiled.

“Fine, then. To settle this, I’ll give you my temporary LA number.” The older boy finally gave in. He pulled out a napkin from the holder, and Mark offered him a pen. Bambam scrawled on the number, sliding the napkin to the middle of the table.

“How can I make sure that you didn’t just give me a fake number?” Mark asked.

“Don’t you trust me, Mark?” Bambam feigned hurt.

“I thought we had that settled last night.” Mark cheekily replied.

Bambam ignored his comment and decided to change the subject. “So why photography?”

“Because I like pretty things, and I can’t keep them all because that’s impractical. So, I take pictures of them. Keep them with me all the time.” Mark looked at Bambam from under his lashes.

“I thought we were done with the double meanings.” Bambam snickered.

“Nah. It’s too entertaining.” Mark giggled.

“Are you sure you’re 24? You sound like a 4 year old.” Bambam rolled his eyes, and discreetly tried to “drop” his coffee on the napkin with the phone number, which was still sitting in the middle on the table. But Mark was quick to snatch it and shove it in his pocket.

“I’m the 4 year old?” Mark commented. “Stop trying, Bellamy. You won’t win this.”

“Damn, son. Virtual high five.” Jackson laughed.

“Okay, you win.” Bambam said, then, “I need to leave now. I have to get to work.”

“So soon?” Mark asked.

“Don’t you have classes to attend?” Bambam asked.

“Well, not anymore because I skipped them both.” Mark laughed.

“Can I have my pin back now?” Bambam asked, standing up.

Mark reluctantly pulled the Chanel pin from his pocket, running his fingers over it, before he slowly put it in Bambam’s open palm.

“Please answer your phone.” He said, eyes hopeful.

Bambam only nodded, before Mark swiftly landed a kiss on his cheek. Bambam rolled his eyes, and Mark giggled, then both of them walked out of the coffee shop.

“I’ll drive you.” Mark offered, but Bambam shook his head, hailing a cab.

“Don’t push it.” He said, amused. Mark laughed, then leaned against his car and watched as Bambam got in the cab and it drove off.

Jackson left the café a little later, telling Bambam that he is gonna pick up some pizza so they can relax in the jacuzzi and watch some Two Broke Girls re-runs. Once at home, and after he placed the pin back in its box safely, Bambam joined Jackson in the jacuzzi, popping open a bottle of red wine.

They didn’t actually watch Two Broke Girls, or even finish the pizza.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Mark.


	7. vii. Fettuccine Alfredo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cards are on the table, and they're all showing hearts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! Turning point!

For the first couple of days after the coffee date with Mark, Bambam’s phone rang non-stop. The only time it seemed to rest was when Mark was in class or sleeping, Bambam assumed. Jackson didn’t comment about the nuisance but certain huffs and puffs have escaped his mouth every once in a while, which worried Bambam a bit.

It started on Tuesday morning, the day after their little coffee stop. Bambam woke up to the first message from Mark, and still affected by the younger’s charms, he decides to reply. No harm in a simple exchange of good mornings and goodnights.

The next day Bambam woke up to the anticipated text messages and he wasn’t disappointed, however, Mark’s text messages start to get longer and Bambam noticed that he’s been spending time on his phone longer than what he deems acceptable; a habit he heavily disapproves of. Even Jackson seemed to remark when he caught the strange sight of Bambam giggling at his cellphone screen, at a cute, small white puppy he assumed was Mark’s Coco wearing a sombrero. Bambam was too busy replying to the text that he over-filled the juice in his cup, and it flowed everywhere on the kitchen counter. That was when Bambam decided that he has to stop.

The kid was cute, and yes, the texts were entertaining, but he can never fit in their life. No, he can’t. Bambam has Jackson, his scamming, and the hefty load of money he gets from that; he’s a satisfied man, he convinces himself. So, he doesn’t pick his phone on the next ring notifying him of a text message, but instead he went to snuggle Jackson who was completely focused on his videogame.

Bambam wrapped his arms around Jackson from the back, and rested his chin on his shoulder.

“Oh, shit, baby, you scared me there.” Jackson said laughing as Bambam kissed the nape of his neck. “Not you, douche, why the fuck would I call you baby, Vlad?” Jackson yelled at his mic. “I don’t know what suka means, but you can suka my dick, Vlad.” He then smiled triumphally at his joke.

Bambam snickered against Jackson’s shoulder. “I disapprove of that arrangement.” he then said to Jackson, moving to sit on his lap as the other wrapped his arms around him, and then adjusted his controller to resume his playing.

They spent the rest of the night in that position. Yes, Jackson was a game freak but Bambam didn’t mind as long as he received attention from Jackson, which was in the form of hurried kisses on his cheeks after each yell. Bambam was so used to this routine that he fell asleep in the elder’s arms even with the continuous frustrated yells resonating around him, his phone long forgotten and shut off up in their shared room.

Thursday had always been Bambam’s least favorite day, it can never compare to Friday, and it was after Wednesday, his and Jackson’s proclaimed “mid-week love” day, which means the extra attention he receives is no longer. Bambam now had another reason to add to the list, as he turned his phone on to contact Jaebum regarding their next scam in Chile, only to see 12 messages and 9 voice mails from Mark.

Most of the texts were of Mark asking if Bambam is okay in which the last one said, “Omg you must be dead, some gang members took you, stripped you and threw you in the ocean, I know it”. Bambam shook his head at the silliness of the other and decided to ignore the voice mails. The smell of eggs hit his nostrils as he was staring at his phone screen and his stomach growled, so he quickly texted Jaebum reminding him of their skype meeting at 5 o’clock that afternoon, and then turned it off and dropped it in his night stand drawer. He really loved Jacksonah’s eggs.

The day went by like any ordinary day would; they went grocery shopping, then out for lunch, and then skype-called Jaebum, but for some reason Bambam felt weird. His thoughts always slipped back to the boy who was blowing up his phone, but he was still determined not to reply, convincing himself that this was just a teenager-y type of fling, that Mark was just a reminder of the young days, a thrill, and that this all was nothing but a distraction.

A sigh escaped Bambam’s mouth the next morning as him and Jackson were making breakfast, some weird vegie omelet that Jackson saw and was adamant on making.

“What’s wrong, Bammie?” Jackson asked as he washed the tomatoes for the omelet.

“This kid is crazy; he left 16 voicemails.” Bambam exclaimed handing Jackson the phone. Jackson laughed and opened the first one after drying his hands on his pants, at which he got a disapproving stare from Bambam.

“ _Hey, uh, Bellamy, I don’t know why you are not texting me back, but can you at least tell me you’re not dead and dumped in the middle of the ocean?”_ Mark’s voice said through the speaker, and Jackson snickered. Another laugh escaped Jackson as he opened the second “ _Ok, so you have phone service which is a good sign_.” He opened the third, “ _Bellamy, just go out on one real date with me, please? Let me prove to you I’m worth this_.”

It went on like this with the other voice mails; Mark begging “Bellamy” to go out with him and so Jackson, amused, set the phone aside and took his boyfriend by the hands.

“Look, you seem upset and I know you really want to go on that date.” Jackson said caressing Bambam’s knuckles, but Bambam quickly changed the subject pointing at his laptop.

“The only flight available to Chile seems to be on Sunday, we need to discuss this with Jaebum before we book the flight, though.” Bambam said avoiding eye contact and the subject all together, but Jackson was having none of that, so he closed the laptop screen and took Bambam’s phone in his hands.

“I’m texting him, how do you feel about a date today? We have nothing to do and I know well you won’t be willing to smoke with me.” Jackson said, unlocking the phone, but Bambam was quick to snatch it back.

“Are you crazy? No, Jackson.” He hissed.

“Stop denying that you like the kid, Bambam, heck I even like him myself! I’d date him too if I were you.” Jackson bit his bottom lip and looked at his boyfriend who had his eyebrows raised at him.

“You’re not about to convince me of a threesome, are you, Jackson?” Bambam asked, chuckling.

Jackson chuckled. “Damn, that would be fucking hot, though.” They looked at each other for a good minute, before Bambam unlocked his phone and was dialing Mark’s number. “We’re fucking crazy.”

“Whoever has this phone, you’re a sick fuck for calling me after killing Bellamy! I’m reporting you to the police right after I trace your address!” Mark screamed at the other end of the line and Bambam chuckled.

“It’s me, you idiot. I’m sorry, work got the best of my time, but I’m glad to see you worry. A little hyperactive with that imagination though.” he giggled, but before Mark could say anything he added, “Are you free this evening? Let me make it up to you.” Jackson was giving him thumbs up.

After what seemed like 5 minutes of Mark silent at the other end (because he was probably gaping), he finally replied. “Yes! I actually am.” he coughed, readjusting his tone. “My treat, though, I know this nice place downtown and I-” he was interrupted by Bambam “Great! Text me the address, I’ll meet you there around 8, okay? Bye, darling.” he cooed.

He hung up the phone quickly and was soon cursing under his breath with his hand over his mouth, while Jackson laughed and commented about how crazy and fucked up they are.

“Well, that happened.” Jackson said, setting their food on the table.

“Fuck, Jacks. We just asked a guy out.” Bambam said.

“It’s gonna be okay.” Jackson kissed his boyfriend’s head.

“If this works out, we,” Bambam paused, thinking about it. “We might become three.”

“I like odd numbers.” Jackson stated, out of context.

“Are you just saying that to make me feel better?” Bambam asked.

“No, baby. I actually like the boy. He’s entertaining, to be honest. He would make a good addition.” Jackson decided.

“I don’t know,” Bambam said. “It’s just for this weekend. We’re not staying long anyway, right?”

“Right.” Jackson nodded, but both he and Bambam knew that that wasn’t certain.

They agreed that Bambam should break their intentions to Mark after the date, and if they were lucky, Mark might actually be meeting Jackson. When Bambam went upstairs to pick his outfit for the night, while Jackson cleaned his messes downstairs, he shot a quick text to Mark.

_“Make sure the place is discreet, I don’t like attention nor do I like a lot of people around me.”_

Mark didn’t doubt his date for the night, texting him back almost right away.

“ _Don’t worry, I’ll work on that. See you in a few hours, Belle_.” Bambam rolled his eyes.

_“Belle?”_

_“;)”_

 

The couple had a small lunch at home, well, Jackson ate most of it, while Bambam nibbled, his stomach too fluttery to digest. After a few make out sessions and butt grabs, Bambam finally picked an outfit, out of like 5, which Jackson approved of and was off to shower, drowning himself in the jasmine scent that Jackson was oh-so-familiar with.

Bambam got dressed in a black, satin dress shirt, tucked into skinny black pants. He broke the bland darkness with a silver-buckle belt, and a silver cross necklace.

“Hmm, you look yummy.” Jackson hummed, burying his face in Bambam’s neck as he applied some eye makeup.

Bambam turned around and planted a kiss on Jackson’s lips.

“I’m gonna go finish up some work, because we still have a lot of time, so meet me in the living room when you’re done.” Jackson smiled, then left Bambam to finish getting ready.

Bambam was conflicted. On one hand, he was so excited to go on the date with Mark, that he couldn’t stop fidgeting. His legs couldn’t even get him to sit down; he kept pacing around, going up and down the stairs, sitting then standing up, then repeating all over again. He even got dressed 2 hours earlier.

On the other hand, however, Bambam was guilty and nervous. Guilty, obviously, because he was literally leaving _his goddamn boyfriend_ at home, to go out with _someone else._ He was going on a legit date with a boy he actually felt something for, and that was scary. What’s scarier, is that it would only be the third time that Mark and Bambam (and lowkey Jackson) saw each other. How can he feel something for someone he has met only twice before? How did Mark manage to creep in like that, and make Bambam all flustered and _nervous?_ Bambam was barely ever nervous, but now, the mere thought of Mark and his canine teeth made his heart beat so fast, he could hear the pulse in his ears.

Jackson found it cute. In all the of years he has known Bambam, he has only seen him this nervous a handful of times. Like the first time they stole something, or the first time they scammed, or the first time they had sex, but now, he was nervous over a boy. Jackson admits, anyone would call him stupid, maybe a pushover, because he is allowing his boyfriend to go out with another person, but all those years back, almost 24 years now, Jackson had promised himself and God that he would do anything, _anything,_ to make Kunpimook happy, and if it takes sharing him with someone else, then so be it; it’s a plus when that someone else was cute kid Mark Tuan.

“Babe, are you ready? It’s almost time.” Jackson said, walking into the room at around 7:30, with the car keys in his hand.

“Oh, yeah,” Bambam said. “Just let me grab my earpiece and pin.”

“No.” Jackson simply said, his arm preventing Bambam from going upstairs.

“What do you mean no, Jackson? I never leave the house without you.” Bambam was confused, fear creeping onto his expression.

“But this time’s different,” Jackson said, his hands cupping Bambam’s face. “This time, you have to.”

“No, I don’t have to. I can’t go without you, Jacks.” Bambam was getting even more nervous.

“Yes, you can. And you will. You are gonna go on a date, and have dinner with a nice-ish boy, then you’re gonna come home back to me and _tell_ me about how much you had fun.” Jackson said.

“Jackson, please.” Bambam was now begging.

“Baby, listen. I know this scares you, and God knows, it scares me shitless too, but this is probably the only thing that I can’t be with you on. Heck, I’m gonna be with you through death, then in hell, but not on your date.” Jackson smiled softly at his boy.

“I’m not going then. Look, it’s hurting you. God, I’m so stupid, what was I thinking? I don’t need anyone else. You’re my everything, Jackson. I’m the happiest fucking person on this planet when I’m with you, I swear. I’m not going.” Bambam ranted, not allowing Jackson to interject.

Jackson looked at Bambam with so much love, the younger felt like he was being suffocated. “You’re,” Jackson sighed, feeling overwhelmed. “You’re my life, Bambam. You are the reason why I do what I do, and why I act like I act, and why I haven’t killed myself even after years of living in hell. I wake up every single day with you in my arms, and you give me a reason to just open my eyes. Look at me being all cheesy now,” Jackson rolled his eyes, a tear rolling down his cheek and Bambam wiped it off with his thumb. “The point is, baby, I can only give you so much, even if it’s the whole world, it’s not enough. I want to give you so much more because you fucking deserve so much more than what I have given you in the past 23 years.”

“I’m not asking for more, Jacks.” Bambam said, now his own tears flowing.

“I know you’re not, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to give you more. I promised myself that I would do anything to give you the life you deserve, and you deserve everything and a little more. It just happens that Mark is that little more. And I’m okay with that, you know I am. Hell, I even want that little more; the kid’s fucking perfect for us. I don’t want to be with you tonight, not because I’m jealous or sad, but because after tonight, it’s gonna be your decision whether you want the boy for us or not. You have to see him and hear him, without me affecting your decision at all. If you see that he makes you happy, then I’m gonna crack open a bottle of champagne and a few joints, and all three of us will celebrate it. And if you decide that you don’t want it, I’m gonna pick you up in my arms and tell you that it’s okay. Either way, I’m gonna love you just the same. Unconditionally, irreversibly, and forever.” Jackson wasn’t crying anymore, but Bambam was. He was full on sobbing, his hands clutching Jackson’s waist so he wouldn’t fall.

“I don’t deserve you.” Bambam whispered, voice choked.

“You deserve more,” Jackson laughed, pulling his lover against his chest and dropping a kiss on the top of his head. “I adore you, baby. More than anything.”

 

Jackson dropped Bambam off two blocks away from where he and Mark agreed to meet, with a long kiss on the lips, and whispered “I love you’s” in the darkness of the car. He watched the younger as he nervously wobbled out of the car, hyperaware of the fact that this would be the first time in _years_ going out anywhere without Jackson’s eyes and ears with him, and his voice in Bambam’s ear. It frightened both of them, because that had always been their safety trick. Now, both were vulnerable, but they knew that it had to be done. Jackson was number 1 on Bambam’s speed dial, anyway.

Jackson waited until Bambam entered the building before he drove back home. He rolled a joint, and calmed his nerves down, fighting the urge to call Bambam every 5 minutes to make sure he’s okay. He ended up playing Over Watch for the rest of the night.

\---

“Okay, people, listen to me, and listen well. Mr. Manager right heeeeeere,” fingers were pointed at Mark. “Has a really important date. And since I owe him for saving my ass from getting fired last month, I have decided to help him make it the best date his companion has ever seen or will ever see in his life. So, y’all are gonna get your asses to work and be happy about it.” Lory, the head chef at the restaurant Mark worked at, said to the staff he had gathered around in the kitchen. Lory was a 50something year old man who almost got fired once because he came drunk to work, but Mark pulled a few strings with the owner, and saved his ass. Mark didn’t expect anything in return, but Lory was a man of honor, as he put it, and he was deadest on helping Mark out.

Mark only requested a table in the back of the restaurant with some decent food, but Lory and the other workers (who really liked Mark) went over and above. When he saw the final product of their hard work, he almost cried. It was perfect, to put it simply; he was sure that his date would love it.

“Well, I hope he would,” He thought. “I didn’t beg him for a date for three consecutive days to disappoint him at the end.”

He still had around 3 hours to spare, so Mark rushed to the hair salon and got there just in time for his appointment. After about an hour and a half, he was back home, taking a shower and getting dressed.

His outfit was already picked out, because that morning he turned his closet inside out 5 times to find something to wear, and then spent two hours, running back and forth from his apartment to Youngjae’s to model his outfits. Youngjae was still so mad at him because of the suit. The first day, he punched him. It hurt like a bitch, but Mark knew he deserved it. After he explained why the suit was ruined, Youngjae softened a little, but continued to be mad nonetheless. It took him three days to speak to Mark again, and he only did it after he promised to pay him back for the damage. At the end, Youngjae helped Mark pick an outfit that they both deemed good enough for the date. It was a white dress shirt tucked under a pair of dark jeans, topped with a baby pink sweater that wasn’t oversized (Mark doesn’t know how he owns that), but its sleeves still surpassed Mark’s hands. He paired his outfit with his burgundy shoes. He looked casual, but a little chic.

That morning also, after the whole outfit ordeal and the shameless begging he did for Bellamy to say yes to the date, Mark noticed that the brown roots of his hair were starting to get obvious from under the blonde locks, so with what he had saved for that new shoes he wanted, Mark booked an appointment to get his hair dyed back to its original color. He decided that he would rather spend the money to make himself more appealing to his date, than on a luxury like those shoes.

It was pathetic, pitiful, and blatantly desperate. But Mark was all of those, after all. 

-

Bambam entered the restaurant hesitantly, stopping at the door for a good minute, debating whether to go in or not. After a few deep breaths, he finally stepped inside, and was greeted by a nice girl who smiled brightly at him.

“Welcome to La Gondola, how can I help you?” The girl asked politely.

“Uhm, hi. I am here to meet Mark Tuan?” It came out more as a question than a statement, but the girl only smiled more.

“Sure, sir,” She ushered for a man and then added, “Please, follow George. He will take you to Mr. Tuan.”

Bambam thanked her, before he followed the man, George, through the restaurant, all the way to the back. Bambam was confused when George kept walking all through the kitchen, down the staff room, and then outside the restaurant all together, but he followed him wordlessly.

“Mr. Tuan is waiting for you upstairs.” George said curtly, gesturing at a spiral staircase that led to the roof of the one-story building.

“Okay, thank you.” Bambam nodded, before he carefully walked up the metal staircase, making it creak a little under his weight.

When he stepped onto the roof, he stopped and stared in shock. [The place](https://digbr.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/09/blend-rooftop5.jpg) looked like something out of a princess fairytale. Fairy-lights were hung everywhere, tea lights were spread over the floor, and next to a neatly set table, stood Mark, in a pink sweater that went over his hands like he was a child, and Bambam’s heart clenched.

“Hi.” Mark awkwardly smiled, walking up to Bambam.

“Your hair is brown.” Bambam said the first thing to come to his mind. Mark’s hair was no longer blonde, but it was [brown](http://scontent.cdninstagram.com/t51.2885-15/s480x480/e35/13557333_248088808910463_1286276080_n.jpg?ig_cache_key=MTI4ODc2NjgzODIxMzIzMzk3MA%3D%3D.2), a color that made Mark seem a couple of years younger than he actually is. And he had it cut and styled in a way that made him look…fluffy, for the lack of better adjectives. Bambam wanted to run his hands through it, but he settled on patting it lightly.

“Yeah, the roots were showing, so I thought it’s time to change.” Mark explained, looking embarrassed.

“I like it,” Bambam blurted and Mark’s eyes widened a little. “It suits you. Makes you look cute.”

“I was aiming for something along the lines of sexy or hot, but cute is gonna have to do,” Mark chuckled. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

Bambam smiled at him, and Mark smiled back, then they both walked towards the table.

“Feels like Lady and The Tramp.” Bambam noted, taking in the sight of the similar setting.

“Here, my lady,” Mark pulled Bambam’s chair out. “Have a seat.”

Bambam rolled his eyes and sat down, then Mark took a seat in front of him. Before they could speak anything, a waiter came out of nowhere (literally appeared out of thin air, Bambam would exaggerate) and handed the couple menus before he opened a bottle of chilled white wine and poured them their drinks.

After they placed their orders, and the waiter left (using the stairs, obviously) Mark smiled softly at Bambam, as if not believing that he was actually there.

“I’m glad you came, Belle.” He said.

“It looks like you want me to leave,” Bambam rolled his eyes. “Don’t call me that.”

“Queen B?” Mark tried, smiling cheekily.

“I will leave, Mark.” Bambam threatened, but it was a very empty threat.

“I’ll work on my nickname skills for later.” Mark laughed, and Bambam absolutely loved the squeaky sound.

Their food came shortly after they finished their first glasses of wine over a small conversation about family and whatnot, in which Bambam lied and faked 99% of it. He felt bad, especially since Mark seemed really interested, but he knew it was necessary.

 _This will all be over soon._ He reminded himself.

It was a pleasant meal, they both had ordered the chef’s special, which turned out to be a Fettuccine Alfredo dish, with salmon; it was lavish, (and delicious), and although Bambam felt like part of him was missing with the absence of Jackson’s voice in his ear, Mark kept him distracted, asking all the right questions, and joking at the right times. Bambam felt at ease, and for the first time in 26 years, he felt normal. It was never like this with Jackson; they never had rooftop dates or conversations about favorite colors and pets. Bambam felt like a normal young man, who was on a normal date with an ordinary guy, and it made him feel alive.

After they were done eating, Mark led Bambam to a bench that was at the end of the rooftop. With their drinks in one hand, and their fingers interlaced, they sat on the bench, too close yet too far. Mark was warm and fuzzy and Bambam just wanted to bury his face in the younger’s chest and stay there. They ended up not speaking anything; they just sat there, sipping on their drinks, hands still intertwined, with Mark’s thumb running circles over the expanse of Bambam’s hand. Bambam’s heart clenched at the thought of Jackson sitting alone at home, but Mark soon after started leaving small kisses on his jaw and cheeks, and in the fuzzy blur of the wine, Bambam giggled.

“I love your scent.” Mark mouthed on Bambam’s neck as he inhaled against his skin, smiling. Bambam didn’t understand how such a small act would get him to react with a shiver, and as much as he liked to blame it on the wine or even his nerves, noting how he was at high alert the whole time, he knew it was all Mark’s effect.

He never wanted to admit to himself that ever since he’s seen Mark in action at the gallery that day, he was enchanted. The tables have turned so badly on Bambam and maybe, just maybe, his little nervous breakdown was because of that, exactly. Sure, losing the pin was something uncharacteristic of him, but he knew he had already lost control way before that. 

“Mind sharing your deep thoughts with me?” Mark said, nudging Bambam out of his train of thought.

How could he? Telling the truth would only make it worse, so he did what he seemed to do best in life, besides loving Jackson, _lie_. “Have you ever wondered if the Greeks were right?”

Mark sat up straight. “Right about what?” he asked, confused at the totally unrelated question.

Bambam seemed to only shake his head rather than answer. “Nothing, I’m just a bit tipsy.”

Mark didn’t make much of it or try to press the matter, regardless of how curious he was to understand the guy. Mark wanted nothing more but for Bellamy to open up to him, to grasp his every minor and major thought that he locked up and kept away from him; it seemed like he was unravelling a mystery, and Mark was eager to strip him down (metaphorically, although he would love the literal part too).

“Come on, get up,” Mark stood up, lending out a hand to his date. “We’re not done with the date yet, I have this place that I want to show you.” and so Bambam took his hand and stood up. He followed the kid with heavy eyes and a heavy heart, all the way to his car and of course, Mark was the type to open the door for him.

Bambam felt his seatbelt tighten on his chest, constricting his already shallow breathing, because he knew that at any second he’ll be telling Mark about how he has a boyfriend whom he loves with every breathing cell in his body. As much as Mark liked him, he thought, it’s not always easy to know how a person would come to terms with what Bambam was about to offer.

Mark drove with a grin on his face; he tried to conceal it by biting his lips, but God knows, his lips will bleed out and he would still not be able to control it. “I had such a great time tonight, and I know this is a bit of stretch for you, but Bellamy, I need to go out on a second date with you.” he said clutching the steering wheel.

It was time, and Bambam let out the biggest sigh before opening his mouth to speak. “Mark, you know we’ve discussed this before, but I-” he was rudely interrupted, and Mark was at this point, too frustrated to even care.

“No, no I don’t, Bellamy. What is it that you’re not telling me? It’s pretty evident we both like each other. For fuck’s sake, I pulled every string possible, give a guy a break.” Mark stopped at a red light. “Don’t deny it, please,” he was now staring at Bambam. “I know you enjoyed our date today, so why are you still pulling out? There’s something else, isn’t there?”

Bambam didn’t reply, instead, he waited until Mark got too frustrated and parked the car on the side of a stranded road to continue the conversation; the lit lamps and their little shadows playing on the ground being the only thing giving it life.

“I have a boyfriend.” Bambam simply said and Mark whipped his head towards him so fast, Bambam was sure he heard a bone snap.

“You have a what?” Mark spat out.

“Before you jump into conclusions, no, I’m not playing the both of you and no I’m not cheating on him.” Bambam remarked fast, but Mark’s eyes darkened.

“WHAT DO YOU EVEN MEAN NOT CHEATING?” Mark yelled and Bambam flinched, sinking back into his seat, silent.

Mark was seething, face red and fists clenched. He got out of the car and started roaming around the road, perhaps searching for something to kick, but soon after he started yelling again. “Oh, my God, we fucked!” he exclaimed, eyes widening and fingers threading in his hair. “WE FUCKED, LIKE WE FUCKED-FUCKED, BELLAMY!” he remarked exposing the cut that was still pretty fresh on his chest, but Bambam was not phased, he waited for Mark to calm down before he could continue to explain.

“FUCK LIKE FUCKING FUCK, MAN.” Mark stood in front of his car. “Run me over, this is it for me, I need to leave this god forsaken land,” he dramatically said before he threw himself at his car’s hood. “I am officially a home-wrecker! A sloppy second!”

Bambam rolled his eyes and got out of the car. “Will you calm the fuck down and let me explain?” and before Mark could speak up again Bambam was already speaking.

He brushed Mark’s hair out of eyes, the kid still panting, and said. “It’s not what you think…”

“Oh really? Because I think you cheated on your boyfriend with me then you went home to him or something, and now he’s gonna murder me.” Mark interrupted.

“I did not cheat on anyone, Mar-” Bambam tried, but Mark couldn’t stop rambling.

“Then what is it? An open relationship or something?” He asked.

“For the love of any God you believe in, shut the fuck up, Mark,” Bambam said, and Mark finally settled down, allowing the older boy to speak. “We don’t have an open relationship, this is hard to explain, but I can tell you this,” He checked if Mark was still listening to him. “He knows about you, don’t freak out again.” he gripped his arms and stabilized him. “And he actually wants to meet you too,” Mark was staring blankly at him so he continued “And _we_ , as in him and I, we want,” he cupped Mark’s face. “you.” Bambam’s part was done, it was now all up to Mark to decide.

“Oh.” Mark uttered after a while, he then untangled himself from Bambam’s hold and resumed to take his previous position, sprawled on the car. “I think it's common courtesy for you to run me over now.” Bambam rolled his eyes for what seemed like the 50th time. “Stop being so melodramatic.” That did not register well with Mark because soon after he was shouting and kicking at his car. Long story short, they stayed like that for 20 minutes before Mark got exhausted, with Bambam standing, arms crossed, on the other side of the road.

When Mark got too tired, he slumped on the ground, his back against the car. He was deep in thought for about 10 more minutes, eyes flickering between Bambam, who stood silent, and the ground.

“Listen, Bellamy,” he said, facing Bambam. “I like you, a lot, probably more than what is considered healthy after 1 and a half dates, and I don’t think I can share you, but… at the same time, I don’t think I can lose you, either.” he bit at his lip.

“So, you will give this a try?” Bambam pleaded stepping closer to Mark and kneeling down to face him. He grabbed and kissed Mark’s shaky knees. “Please?”

Mark exhaled, closing his eyes, then he said, “I’ll think about it. You can’t expect me to give an answer now, right? I mean, I haven’t even met the third person involved in this.”

“You’re right. You don’t have to answer now, take all the time you want.” Bambam said, standing up and pulling Mark with him.

“I want to meet him.” Mark said.

“Of course, you will.” Bambam replied.

“No, I mean, today. I want to meet him today.” Mark stated, and Bambam smiled slightly, then nodded.

“Can we continue our date before?” Bambam asked, and Mark looked anxious, but Bambam’s puppy dog eyes seemed to do the trick because a minute later, they were in the car again, Mark still shaky but sane enough to drive, however, the car wasn’t turning on.

“That would’ve been awkward if I actually tried to run you over.” Bambam laughed. Mark punched the steering wheel.

“Okay, calm down, big boy,” Bambam took Mark’s hand in his. “I’m just gonna call Jay to come pick us up. We’ll call the AAA in the morning, okay? You need some rest now, you’re too shaken.”

“His name’s Jay?” Mark asked, voice sounding small, and it hurt Bambam a little.

“Jonah,” Bambam stated Jackson’s fake name. “He likes to be called Jay, though.” Mark nodded.

Bambam pressed number 1 to speed dial Jackson, whose number he had saved as Babe because they were this kind of couple.

“Baby? Are you okay? Is everything okay? Did something happen?” Jackson shot those questions the second he answered the call.

“Baby, I’m okay,” The nickname slipped out of Bambam’s mouth out of habit, and Mark winced. “I’m still with Mark, but the car broke down, and we’re on the side of the road. Can you come pick us up?”

“Where are you?” Jackson asked, and Bambam could hear shuffling. “Good thing I’m not stoned, or that would’ve been a problem.”

Bambam laughed then told Jackson the address. “Sit tight, I’ll be there in 5.” Jackson said.

“It needs at least 15 minutes, Jonah.” Bambam was sure to use the fake name so Jackson would get the memo.

“And I said I’ll be there in 5.” Jackson finished the conversation with that and hung up.

Exactly 8 minutes later, Jackson’s [black Mercedes](http://www.auto-motor-i-sport.pl/media/lib/1824/c-5.jpg) was pulling up behind Mark’s Nissan.

“He has a Mercedes. Great.” Mark thought, then Bambam made him get his things and lock the car.

Bambam walked up to Jackson who got out of the car and pecked his lips.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Jackson asked, putting Bambam at arm’s length to inspect him.

“Yes, we’re completely fine. The car was parked, then it wouldn’t turn back on.” Bambam explained. When he saw that Mark was still standing by his car, eyes to the ground, Bambam walked up to him and pulled him towards Jackson.

“You must be Mark,” Jackson smiled, offering his hand to the younger boy. “I’m Jonah. The boyfriend. But you can call me Jay, or whatever you’re comfortable with.” (Jackson and Bambam had decided that it would be safer if they used Jay, so they would avoid calling him Jackson and blowing their cover).

“He’s gorgeous. Great.” Mark thought to himself again when he took a look at the boy standing in front of him. “Jonah” was a little taller than Bambam, probably the same height as Mark, but he had broad shoulders, built muscles, a chiseled jaw, and he looked like he could crush Mark with one fist. His face was, to put it lightly, perfect. He had soft brown eyes, a pretty smile, and he had at least 90 points on Mark, if he is to be honest. When he noticed that he has been silent and staring for a long minute, Mark cleared his throat.

“Mark.” He awkwardly said, extending his hand to shake Jonah’s.

“Can we go home now, it’s getting cold.” Bambam voiced out, and the three of them shuffled to the car. Bambam, naturally, took shotgun, while Mark sat in the back, cursing his life because he was legit considering the offer.

 _Apparently, they live together_. Mark thought bitterly.

The drive was silent, with Jackson and Bambam’s hands intertwined on the center console, like it was a habit and they couldn’t help themselves.

They stopped at a coffee shop to get coffee because Mark looked like he really needed some. Jackson offered to be the one to buy because Mark was too shaken to move and Bambam had to keep an eye on him.

“Mark, will an Americano be okay?” Jackson asked, looking at Mark in the rearview mirror. Mark absentmindedly nodded.

“Do you want anything with your coffee, babe?” Jackson then turned to Bambam.

“Just my usual.” Bambam shook his head.

Bambam and Mark didn’t say anything all while they waited for Jackson to return, and when he did, he handed Mark his coffee with a soft smile, and it warmed Mark’s heart just a little bit. Bambam and Jackson shared a couple of hushed words, then Bambam kissed Jackson’s nose.

At that moment, Mark realized how domestic they are. Not only do they live together, but they act like a married couple; they seem to know everything about each other, and it made Mark feel like the outsider he knew he was.

“So, how long have you guys been dating?” Mark asked, while Jackson buckled up his seatbelt.

Bambam decided that it was only fair to be honest with Mark about that one. “Almost 10…” but he was interrupted by Mark.

“Months?” He asked, hopeful. He can catch up to 10 months.

Bambam smiled sadly at him. “Years.” He said.

Mark’s jaw fell open, and his heart clenched painfully. “And, uhm, you’ve known each other for how long?” He knew that the answers will just hurt him, but he wanted to hear them from the get go.

“23 years.” Jackson answered, turning on the car and pulling out of his parking spot, but he drove slow.

“So, let me get this straight. You’ve known each other for 23 years, have been dating for 10 years, and you have known me for one week, while Jonah has known me for 10 minutes, and you guys want to date me.” Mark stated, halfway incoherent.

Jackson and Bambam both nodded.

“Oh. Okay.” Mark breathed out, placing his coffee cup in the cup holder before he clicked open the door lock and opened the door.

Jackson stepped on the brakes so fast and the car halted immediately. Thank God, he was driving slowly, and that they were still in the parking lot, not on the street.

“Are you fucking insane?” Bambam yelled, and Mark closed the door again.

“I’m the insane one? Did you even think about your offer to me?” Mark asked, finally snapping from his half-dead state.

“Yes! We have been for the past two days, and if we weren’t fucking sure, I wouldn’t have asked you, Mark.” Bambam explained, mad at how suicidal the kid is.

“Listen, Mark,” Jackson, who was the calmest at the moment, spoke. “You don’t have to decide now. We’re not pushing. We know it’s a weird request, but just think about it rationally. For now, we’re gonna get home, smoke a joint or two, then sleep on it. Okay?”

“I need some weed,” Mark sighed, but then he nodded. “And a whole lot of alcohol.”

Well, here goes nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor baby Mark :( His dramatic outburst, although well, dramatic, was totally in place, right?


	8. viii. Banana Pancakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark thinks he can get used to it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! Loads of fluff and like, writer's block is starting to kick in...  
> (We only refer to Bam and Jacks as Bellamy and Jonah or Jay when Mark is speaking, thinking/remembering about them, or one of them mentions the names. Other than that, in context, they're Bambam and Jackson. If this is confusing, please tell us so we can find some way else! Thanks!)

The car ride back home was excruciating for Jackson. As a person with a hyperactive everything he couldn’t handle the silence that seemed to cruise around the car as an unwanted fourth passenger, so he turned on the radio, but for his luck “Despacito” came on. Jackson and Mark simultaneously groaned which resulted in a collective laugh.

“Okay, no radio then.” Jackson said, still smiling. As he extended his arm towards the radio, Bambam quickly swatted his hand away. “Nah, I love this song.” Bambam said in protest and Jackson sighed for he knew the show that will soon break.

He’s had countless car rides with Bambam and he knew very well the patterns of that kid. There’s always perfume, wet wipes, Bambam’s screechy high notes and of course, the thousand lip balms with different flavors scattered around the car.

The first car Jackson and Bambam owned was a silver Toyota; they were about 18 and 19 when they first got it, and Jackson was above the roof with how proud he was with his new possession. Of course, the money paid for it was from the fruits of their scams. They’ve managed to collect enough money to buy the secondhand car from an old friend that lived in the apartment next to theirs at that time.

Bambam wasn’t that excited about their first purchase, but loved the car regardless. It smelled of hand sanitizers, but had many memories, from the burn stain in the back seat which got there thanks to Jackson and his anxious self; they bought weed for the first time and Jackson just couldn’t hold still, paranoid that the cops would catch them, and he got jumpy at every sound they heard on that mountain top that night. To the broken handle above the window thanks to the both of them. Well, if you would put the blame on one of them it would probably be Jackson since he’s the one who insisted on car sex, and Bambam can never really resist.

Ever since the Toyota, Bambam always put on singing shows when he liked a song. He would screech the lyrics at the top of his lungs, acting out the lyrics and singing to Jackson. It was of the few times that Jackson saw his boyfriend act his age, so he let it happen, no matter how annoying it was.

Soon enough, like Jackson predicted, Bambam was singing. He started out awkward with his voice low but after a few of Mark’s cute giggles, his voice was soon threatening Jackson’s eardrums. Regardless, the two boys enjoyed the show and were soon applauding the star.

“Almost lost my eye a few times with your gestures, but beautiful regardless.” Jackson remarked, still applauding while at a red light.

“Missed all the lyrics as well, but the passion was there, bravo.” Mark dared to comment too and Bambam was soon thanking and bowing for them.

Mark thought it was actually adorable how such an eye-pleasing human being can be such a dork. As Bambam was confidently swinging his arms everywhere, almost getting them into multiple accidents and Jackson swiftly dodging each smack and cursing at him, Mark realized how quickly the two of them had welcomed him in. True, it was only a car ride but with Jackson and Bambam’s glances and smiles, he was soon too, singing the phrases he barely knew out loud.

The mood was mellow and fun, until Mark noticed the turn Jackson made towards, well, the fancy side of LA, as Mark called it. Besides when skating, he never really roamed around the wide empty roads before, and whatever warmth his heart started getting used to, was soon cut off.

Mark stared out the window as the fancy brick roofs and large, gated gardens passed one by one and it was soon hard for him to swallow again. Each house took a bit of his breath away and he was soon feeling dizzy, so he slumped in his seat and kept his piercing stare outside the window, not wanting to look at the couple who were now throwing worried glances at each other.

“We’re almost there.” Bambam said, as if preparing Mark for what he was about to face, and it’s safe to say that once they reached their destination, and Jackson parked the car in front of the huge house, Mark’s legs refused to cooperate and he swore that gravity must have been fucking around with him since no other force seemed to help him get out of the car.

“Uh, Mark, darling, get out of the car please.” Bambam pleaded as he knocked on the window at Mark’s side, but Mark only locked the door as he shook his head and slid to the middle.

“This is not your house I’m seeing, I refuse,” he then said, “You guys are pranking me, right? This is some sick joke people set you up to, right?”

Jackson sighed and unlocked the car using the keys. He opened the door after a few tugs from Mark, but let’s face it: Jackson against Mark? Mark having a chance was a bit of an over stretch. “So, you’re suicidal and delusional.” Jackson let out a laugh before proceeding, “Listen, love, you either get out by yourself or I’m going to have to drag you. Let’s just save the hassle yeah?” Jackson’s words, or threat that is, convinced Mark because he was soon entering the huge marbled house, his eyes roaming around trying to register what he’s actually witnessing in front of him.

His cardboard box apartment was the size of that place’s foyer only. Mark was literally gawking at everything, not believing just to what extent the couple were well off.

Bambam’s hands tugged on Mark’s, who was shamelessly gaping at that point, and then helped him manage his way to the living room. “I mean, I knew you had your company and all, but I never knew you guys were…Were,” Mark struggled to find the proper word but Jackson soon continued after him.

“Sugar daddy material?” he laughed, or squeaked. “Damn, I can play that role.” Bambam said as he helped Mark to his seat, winking at the younger.

Jackson was out getting some pizza and snacks, preparing for the munchies they will soon get from the stone fest they’ll have, so Bambam took it as an opportunity to talk Mark out of his internal freak-out.

Bambam handed Mark a glass of wine and scooted right close to him before caressing his thigh. “Listen, darling, you really don’t have to do this, it’s not like we’re forcing you or anything, really we just want you to be comfortable.” Bambam said, his forefinger drawing lazy circles on the inside of Mark’s thigh. The latter gulped his wine down fast, so Bambam offered his own, amused, which Mark gladly accepted.

“This is new to us too, you know, it’s not like we go around dating people, but you’re special.” Bambam’s hand was slowly sliding its way towards Mark’s growing bulge and Mark’s stare was intense, focused on how Bambam’s finger continued tracing circles, but now closer to his member.

“Do you want to leave, Mark? It’s okay if you want to.” Bambam cooed in Mark’s ear before going down to kiss the junction between his neck and shoulder, and Mark let out a pleasured sigh.

“You know this is unfair play, you’re totally influencing my decision.” Mark choked out, but Bambam laughed softly, biting on his earlobe.

“We’ll totally understand if you don’t want this, Mark.” Bambam continued to whisper as one of his hands slid up Mark’s shirt caressing his chest.

“Shit,” Mark hissed, feeling his pants grow tighter. “C-can you, like, uhm, stop saying my name?” Mark was obviously flustered but Bambam was merciless as he kissed his neck and hummed.

“Why, Mark? You don’t like it when I call you Mark? Is that it, Mark?” but before the addressee could answer, a door slammed somewhere in the house; and it alerted the two.

“Pizza is heeEerrrReee.” Jackson shouted excitedly so Bambam laughed, making his way to meet Jackson at the threshold.

“They better not have Pineapples on them.” Bambam shouted back and Jackson only seemed to protest.

“Babe, common, they taste amazing when you’re stoned.” Jackson nagged, and Bambam sighed then looked at the third boy who was seemingly still flustered by their previous display.

“So, Mark, what do you say?” Bambam asked, smirking. Mark thought about it for a hard 10 seconds before he gulped down the second glass of wine and said, “Don’t listen to him, Jonah, I like pineapples on my pizza too.”

Bambam wanted to look displeased with the two turning against him, but he couldn’t help but smile at the younger boy who returned the smile as Jackson barged into the living room with a couple of joints, the large pizza boxes, and a bottle of whiskey in his hands.

-

A few puffs in and Mark was already out of it, because before he knew it, he was sprawled on the ground with his head resting on Jackson’s lap, who, in turn, was spaced out, staring at the ceiling ranting about coconuts.

“But seriously, I don’t get why they called them coconuts, you know?” Mark hummed taking another drag from the joint, keeping it for a few seconds before releasing the smoke straight above him, into Jackson’s face.

“Like I’m pretty sure whoever discovered they were edible was called Coco.” Mark then added after passing the joint, and Jackson looked down at him like he was some kind of genius.

“Omg, makes sense but-but what about the nut part? Is it because they actually look like nuts?” Mark’s laugh was embarrassingly high and Jackson joined in for what seemed like 5 whole minutes before Bambam came into the room with the pizza they forgot about when they started smoking.

“Oh lord, Jay they even have the pubes and all.” The youngest added, giggling, and Jackson spat out the bite of pizza he had taken, and was soon tearing up from all the laughing. Bambam was confused but was glad the two were getting along so he kept silent, observing the boys with a relieved but absentminded expression on his face, taking a bite from the pizza, which he soon spat out.

“Seriously, pineapples should only be acceptable in cocktails.”

Two joints in and the two boys were hanging onto reality by a thread. Bambam was sat down on the leather couch enjoying his wine and cheese sticks while the other two talked about life’s mysteries or… M&Ms and how they’ve been deceived their whole lives because apparently the two Einsteins just discovered that all colors taste the same.

“They’re all chocolate, of course they taste the same.” Bambam had told them, but they ran to the kitchen to have a tasting experiment, and Bambam was pretty sure one of them tripped all the way there, but he was just too unbothered and tipsy to go check.

When they came back all flustered and angry, the living room TV turned on because Jackson had flopped himself on the couch, where the remote control was, and “ ** _Overwatch_** ” showed on the screen. That’s when a gasp escaped Mark’s drunk and stoned mouth. He turned around to face Jackson “You?” he pointed at him and Jackson nodded. Mark bit his lip before asking “Rank?” and he knew that if this hot and buff guy in front of him was anywhere between Grandmaster and Plat, he was legitimately going to fuck him on the spot.

“Master.” Jackson spat out, standing up, and Mark’s eyes lit up. They intensely stared at each other, both confused at whether they should chest bump or undress each other right away. Mark let out a little whisper not breaking the little stare down they were having, “I’m master too,” and then Jackson’s lips were on his.

It was a sloppy kiss and most of their efforts were on trying not to tumble down to the ground. Jackson tasted like M&Ms and whiskey and Mark was fascinated by the mix, the blood rush to his brain acting as a temporary sober-up. He grabbed onto Jackson’s shirt leaning in further but to his surprise, he was pushed up against a wall.

Jackson didn’t realize he had the boy smashed against the wall until the other let out a few gasps, his slightly open mouth allowing the older to dart his tongue in and taste the inside of his mouth. Mark’s lips were soft and fluffy, and his tongue battled Jackson’s, almost teasing him. Jackson could feel the tongue piercing as he brushed his tongue inside Mark’s mouth even more, and it drove him crazy, only making him smash the younger further against the wall. That’s when Bambam stepped in. “Careful, baby, you’re going to smother the kid before I get a taste of him too.” He said before he gently pushed Jackson and scooted in between them.

What went through Mark’s mind at the time he was contemplating this whole arrangement, was the love making, or to put it crudely, the dynamics of the three-way sex. You’d think he’s an idiot for only worrying about that, but he was never part of a threesome before and he never really figured out how everything goes.

But all these thoughts seemed to seep out his brain and onto Bambam’s lips that were now lightly brushing onto his with an evident smile, a little moan escaping Bambam’s as Jackson nibbled on his ear grabbing onto his hips and thrusting slowly at his ass. Mark couldn’t grasp what was happening to him because he was already full on hard, witnessing what just happened and it ached. He attacked Bambam’s lips and the other responded quickly enclosing whatever space was left between them and that’s when he felt how hard the other was too.

They were all a drunk and stoned mess, and with heavy eyes, they were soon sprawled on the leather couch, Bambam being on top of Mark while Jackson worked his way beside the two, lying down, the alcohol and weed seeming to hit his head hard but he was content watching the two boys as they made out heavy and loud.

Mark was on cloud nine, scratch that, he was over cloud nine thousand because before he knew it Bambam left his side, taking the heat that was welling up between them with him, and was now straddling Jackson’s lap slowly grinding on his crotch, as Jackson let out a few moans and so did Mark at the sight. Jackson reached out and grabbed Mark by the hair guiding him towards his lips and Mark got the memo; they were slowly making out while Bambam worked on grinding and leaving wet kisses and hickeys on the two boys, sucking on whatever skin he found available to him. The idea of being watched by Bambam excited Mark even more and before he could wrap his head around it, Bambam was cupping him, making sure his member was not feeling left out. Bambam brushed his hand on Mark’s bulge and all around it, following the movement of his hips on Jackson’s.

They stayed that way for a while and before Mark felt close to the edge, the overdrive of all the sensation washed over him at once, then shades of darkness consumed his sight as his eyelids fell and closed up on their own, but not before he muttered, “yes” a couple of times.

\--

Mark woke up groggy, with a stiff neck, but with the feel of something satin and warm under his cheek. He cracked open one of his eyes; the light was too bright, so he quickly closed it again, but it had already triggered his building headache.

Mark noticed that the bed was too soft; he doesn't even own satin bedsheets. He sighed, pushing himself up to be in a sitting position. Once he was up, he registered that he was in an oversized flannel with sweatpants too big for him, and he had them inside out. This confused him even more, but as soon as his mind kickstarted, the memories from the night before resurfaced, and he remembered where he was.

It was weird, because the last thing he remembers was being in the living room with his own clothes on, but now he was in a bedroom with clothes that are definitely not his. 

When he stood up from the bed, massaging his temples because of the raging headache, he saw yesterday's clothes thrown on the floor, by the side of the bed. He picked them up, inspecting them to determine if they were clean, and after he decided that they were, he put them on, leaving the clothes he was wearing on the bed which he made.

Mark opened the white door in the room he was in, and noticed that it's a bathroom, so he stepped inside in hopes to freshen up a little. Once he decided that it was good enough for him, he left the bathroom, then the bedroom all together.

He slowly opened the door inspecting whether any sounds were coming out and once it was clear and silent enough for him he charged in the unfamiliar hallway trying to find his way to what he remembers as the stairs that lead to the front door of the house aka his exit. Mark was a skinny man and thus it was not hard for him to walk unnoticed without any sounds, all he had to do was just avoid bumping into anything and with that headache of his it somehow seemed impossible but he made it, with the staircase now in his sight he felt victorious.

He soon stopped at a halt at the familiar giggles that came from downstairs. Mark couldn’t know why he froze and got as flustered but before he could make his way down, someone was calling out his name.

“Mark? You’re up!” one of them mused while the other added, “One more hour and I was about to call the ambulance on you, thought you’d be dead,” followed by a squeaky laugh. Mark’s legs were still glued on the stairs and he uttered about a thousand shits and fucks under his breath but soon mustered out a smile because Bambam was now dragging him downstairs with his hand in his.

The boys walked hand in hand into the kitchen, where the third boy was standing next to the stove, flipping a pancake, and humming a song. When he turned around, Mark could see that he was wearing an apron that says “Kiss the Chef”, so he giggled, and Jay pointed to his chest and said, “Don’t you know how to read? In this household, we do as the apron says.”

Mark giggled even more as Bambam walked over to Jackson and kissed his puckered lips. When he moved back, Jay’s lips were still puckered.

“I don’t have all day, Mark, the pancake’s gonna burn.”

So, Mark shuffled to where the older boy was, but he stuck his cheek against his lips. The other boys giggled at Mark’s awkwardness, then Bambam said, “Someone’s grumpy in the mornings.”

To which Mark replied with, “I smoked like two joints and had wine and whiskey, my head’s gonna fall off. I also woke up in clothes that aren’t mine.”

Jackson explained how they had to carry him to the guest bedroom, and change his clothes so he would be comfortable, but because of their drunk and high states, they did it all wrong.

“At least you’re not broken.” Jackson joked, but Mark huffed and rubbed his head that was still hurting. Bambam cooed, then promised to make it better, so he walked behind Mark and wrapped his arms around his waist, nuzzling his face in the crook of the younger’s neck. He slowly rocked him from side to side, while he hummed some song, which was probably Despacito for all Mark knew. Mark smiled slightly, but his headache didn’t want to go away.

Jackson almost squealed at the adorable scene in front of him, taking in the sight of his boyfriend babying the new addition, and Jackson felt, deep inside that Mark was a good move after all. However, he felt a little guilty, because less than a day with them, and he was already recovering from being drunk and high; Jackson and Bambam were used to the combination, but Mark obviously wasn’t.

“Poor kid,” Jackson thought. “We’re ruining him already.”

Jackson was too distracted by the two boys in front of him that he almost forgot that he had a pancake on the stove. He saved it at the last minute, sure, it was a little crispy and black-ish on the sides, but it was edible. Yet again, everything was edible to Jackson.

“Mark, you should do us the honor of tasting the first pancake.” Jackson said, sticking the pancake in Mark’s face. The younger boy was too shy to say no, so he just took the circular food from the other’s hand and took a bite. He almost threw up the whole week’s food, but he just swallowed the stale, burnt dough, and faked a smile.

“Wow.” Was all that he could say. Technically, he wasn’t lying; it wasn’t a “wow, that’s amazing” but rather a “wow, how can you fuck up pancakes this bad?”, but he only said the “wow” part.

“On a scale of 1 to Suicide Squad, how bad was it?” Bambam giggled.

Mark faltered, so he scrunched up his nose and said, “Suicide Squad bad, with emphasis on the Suicide part.”

Both boys laughed, Jackson knowing fully well that his pancakes sucked because he was never good at those.  

“Okay, I give up, you are the master chef now.” Jackson took off the apron, and put it on Mark, then dropped a kiss on his ear.

“Gotta do what the apron says.” He giggled, and Mark smiled.

“Let’s make banana pancakes.” Mark suggested.

“Banana pancakes?” Bambam asked, confused.

“Yeah, they’re easy, and naturally flavored.” Mark said.

“You’re the chef now, and the guest, so knock yourself out.” Jackson grinned, sitting down, glad that he had minimal work to do. Once Mark started getting the ingredients ready, Jackson pulled Bambam onto his lap, resting his chin on the younger’s shoulder, and together, they observed the youngest as he moved around the kitchen and started working on the banana pancakes, reciting the recipe out loud.

“How do you know how to make them?” Bambam asked, and Mark looked at him from over his shoulder, his chest not feeling too heavy anymore as he saw the couple being touchy.

“My grandma used to make them for me when I was little, then the chef at the restaurant where I work improved on the recipe, and it tasted even better.” Mark explained.

“You work at a restaurant?” Bambam asked, realizing how little details he knew about Mark.

“Uh, yeah. I’m the branch manager of the restaurant I took you to last night.” Mark said, embarrassed.

“So that’s why everything was extra perfect! And on the roof.” Bambam giggled, proceeding to explain to a confused Jackson about what he was speaking about, describing in detail how magical the date was, and Jackson only smiled, looking between him and Mark.

As Mark was busy mixing the ingredients together, he didn’t notice how the two other boys walked up to him and stood on either of his sides, peeking over his shoulders at the creation.

They both started nagging to help, so Mark let them mash the bananas, which didn’t end well because the dweeb one kept scolding dweeb two that he was doing it wrong.

“Baby, you’re doing it wrong!”

“There’s no right way to squish bananas, Jay!”

It went on like that until Mark decided to intercept and save the bananas. “You’re both wrong,” He fake scolded. “Now go sit down and wait for me to finish.”

Jackson didn’t take the scolding well, so he decided to pick Mark up and squish him, because why not, and as Bambam tried to save Mark, Jackson ended picking him up as well. After struggling for a while, the younger boys freed themselves from Jackson’s steel grip, then gave each other a look before they tackled him, one of them tickling him till he was wheezing while the other held him down.

After around 10 minutes, the couple finally let Mark finish cooking the pancakes, and then they sat on the kitchen counter, layering banana pancakes and maple syrup, then they stuffed their faces with the fluffy heavens until they couldn’t breathe. Mark smiled at the two boys as they alternated between feeding each other and throwing pieces of food at each other. _"I can get used to this."_ He thought to himself.

After they settled down, Bambam gave Jackson a look before he turned back to Mark.

“So, Mark, we know you answered the question yesterday, but you were high _and_ drunk, and horny, and falling asleep,” he paused, all of them looking confused for a second before they chuckled. “so, we wanted to ask you again, because, we want you to answer while sober and rational,” He continued, looking at Mark. He sighed then asked, “Mark, will you be our little more?”

Mark was confused at the wording of the question, but he bit his lip, and avoided the boys’ eyes.

“I,” He started, then stopped. “I want to say yes, but there’s this little voice in the back of my head that keeps telling me how fucked up we all are.”

The other two frowned, knowing fully well that he was so right.

“You don’t have to answer now.” Jackson said, repeating the phrase they had said multiple times before.

“My answer is yes.” Mark said, stopping himself from thinking, because he knew that he might hesitate if he did think.

“I’m sorry what?” Bambam was shocked, not believing his ears.

“My answer is yes, for now, before I freak out.” Mark added quickly.

The couple sighed in relief, trying to hide their grins.

“We’ll take it slow.” They agreed.

-

As the three boys were systematically helping each other wash the dishes, Mark’s phone started ringing. He put down the plate he was drying, and ran to the living room where he found his phone somewhere on the floor.

“Hello?” He picked up just in time.

“I was gonna hang up,” Thomas, Mark’s project partner, said. “What took you so long?”

“I was preoccupied.” Mark said.

Thomas sighed. “So, at 12 in the coffee shop?”

“Huh?” Mark’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“We have to finish the report?” Thomas reminded him.

“Oh, fuck. I almost forgot.” Mark hissed.

“I expected that. That’s why I called two hours earlier. Don’t be late, Mark.” Thomas said, probably rolling his eyes.

“I won’t.” Mark said, but they both knew pretty well that Mark had a habit of using that lie.

Mark walked into the kitchen again, fiddling with his phone, a little frown on his face.

“Is everything okay?” Bambam asked.

“Uh-huh,” Mark nodded. “I just have to go now. I have a project report meeting that I forgot about.” He sheepishly added.

“Oh.” Bambam pouted a little.

“I’ll drop you off,” Jackson said, standing up and walking towards the younger boy. “I have to drop off your car keys so the AAA can pick it up.”

“You don’t have to go through all that trouble, Jonah.” Mark bit his lip, feeling guilty.

“Nonsense, there’s no trouble at all. I have some work to do, so you don’t have to worry about it.” Jackson smiled at Mark, squeezing his shoulder lightly.

“Thank you.” Mark smiled back.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” Jackson said. “Now, you help Bellamy finish the dishes while I get dressed, okay?”

“Sure.” Mark nodded, then walked towards Bambam to help him. Before they finished their work, Bambam gave Mark his and Jackson’s personal phone numbers. It was risky and reckless, and if anyone got their hands on them, it would be a disaster. But Mark was now their boyfriend, their little more, and they needed to stay in touch with him.

“We’ll group chat,” Bambam smiled at Mark who saved the numbers under “Queen B” and “Jay” just to spite the older boy. “Delete the old number, I only use it for work anyway.”

10 minutes later, Jackson was walking down the stairs. “I’ll bring the car up front.” He said, then gave Bambam a kiss. “Call me if you need anything. I shouldn’t be late.”

“Okay, baby. Take care of him.” Bambam said, pointing at Mark.

“Don’t worry about it.” Jackson chuckled, then went to get the car.

“Text me when you get back home, okay?” Bambam took Mark’s hand in his.

“Okay.” Mark nodded.

“You know, you can change your answer.” Bambam said, using his hand to brush a strand of Mark’s hair off his face.

“I don’t think I will anytime soon,” Mark smiled at him, caressing his face. “But I’ll keep that in mind.”

Bambam nodded, then Mark kissed his forehead, grabbed his things, and went outside just as Jackson was pulling up in front of the house. Bambam waved at them as they drove off, a small smile on his face.

Mark felt a little awkward being in the front seat next to the older male, but Jackson just smiled at him and told him to relax a little.

“So, where do you want me to drop you off?” Jackson asked, throwing Mark a glance before he focused back on the road.

“Home.” Mark replied, then gave Jackson the address even though he already knew it.

“Okay, so I’ll drop you off then I’m gonna meet the AAA guys for your car,” Jackson paused, then said. “How’re you gonna get to the project meeting?”

“I’ll walk,” Mark replied. “It’s not far.”

“I’ll just come back and give you a ride.” Jackson offered.

“No, Jonah. Really, it’s like 10 minutes away from home, I promise.” Mark argued.

“Are you sure?” Jackson asked.

“Yes, I’m sure. But thank you anyway.” Mark laughed (and Jackson decided that he wants that sound as his ringtone/alarm tone/funeral soundtrack).

Subtly, as Mark was looking out of the window, Jackson moved his hand and rested it on Mark’s thigh. He kept his eyes focused forward, but in his peripheral view, he could see Mark look at him surprised. He half expected the younger to be awkward or indifferent, but Jackson almost cried from happiness when he felt Mark’s fingers trace the outline of his hand, the pads of his fingers touching the veins that were popping on the surface.

“You have really veiny hands.” Mark noted, pushing up Jackson’s sleeve to check his forearm, and it was just as veiny.

“Fuck that's hot.” Mark whispered under his breath, but it didn't go unnoticed by the older boy.

Jackson smiled, then he noticed how Mark’s whole hand wrapped around one of his fingers, and he almost ran into the car in front of him because he was busy trying not to combust.

15 minutes later, after useless small talk and some hip-hop songs that they both agreed were better than Bambam’s pop music, Jackson parked the car in front of Mark’s apartment complex.

“Thanks for the ride, Jay.” Mark smiled at the older.

“Any day,” Jackson smiled back, dropping a quick kiss on Mark’s cheek. “Take care of yourself.”

Mark blushed, but nodded anyway, then scrambled out of the car like his ass was on fire. He was in a star-struck state as he climbed up to his apartment, not really registering anything from the past 24 hours of his life. Did he actually say yes? Was he now a part of a three-way relationship? He had left his apartment the day before in hopes of getting one boyfriend, but now he’s returned with _two._

“Two!!!!!!” Mark kept repeating in his head.

He was dazed as he entered his room, then he slumped on the bed, and questioned his decision (and his sanity). 5 minutes later, he decided that he’s gonna have to postpone the thinking for later because Thomas would throw a hissy fit if Mark were late again. So, he shot Bambam a message that he got home, then went to take a shower.

After his shower, Mark picked out some clothes to wear. He noticed that the other boy had texted him back a simple “take care :)”. He smiled at his phone like an infatuated 14-year-old girl, before he recomposed himself and got ready.

At 30 past eleven o’clock, Mark entered the coffee shop, and took a place on one of the couches, waiting for Thomas. Safe to say, Thomas was entirely surprised and shocked that Mark was not late, or on time, but actually early!

The report took them around 4 hours, mainly because Mark kept zoning out. By the end of it, however, they had an A-worthy paper, and Mark could finally get home.

He stayed home the whole weekend. True to his word, Bambam did create a group chat, and the three boys ended up texting frequently, all while Mark spend the rest of his Saturday and Sunday on the couch in his living room, thinking over his decision, wondering if he were too crazy or needs therapy, then settling on answering no to both because his boyfriends sent him sleepy selfies and candid pictures, and he kept smiling at his phone, and he felt genuinely happy for the first time in a while.

 _His boyfriends._ The word still tasted funny on his tongue, as if weighing down on his throat, constricting his breathing. He felt lightheaded, like he was out of it, and then he realized that he had felt that same thing before, when he tried his first pull of weed. For the first 5 minutes, it was plain wrong and weird, but when the smoke hit the back of his throat, and traveled up to his head, he felt…free.

 _This is just the first 5 minutes_ , he thought to himself. _They’re gonna make me free._

-

On Monday, Mark woke up before his alarm even rang, because he was excited. The two boys had promised to pick him up from university at 4 in the afternoon for a late lunch, and he was excited to see them after 2 days.

His first class started at 11, so he decided to stop by the repair shop and pick up his car. He had called in and made sure it was done beforehand, so when he got to the shop, dressed up and smiling, he was greeted by his lovely April, all cleaned up and ready to roll.

After he had the keys in his hands, he walked up to the main desk to pay the bill.

“Good morning, I want to pay the bill for the black Nissan Sunny.” He told the young lady.

“Under whose name?” She asked politely.

“Mark Tuan.” He answered her.

She typed a little, then she said, “Oh, that bill’s already paid sir.”

“What?” Mark asked, confused. “By whom?”

The young lady shrugged. “A young man; he paid cash and didn’t say a name or ask for the car. Just paid the bill and left.”

“Do you remember what he looked like?” Mark asked.

“He’s your height maybe, built, Asian, blonde, really pretty.” The girl giggled.

Jonah.

“When did he come by?” Mark asked.

The girl pressed some buttons before she said, “Uhm, Saturday, around noon.”

Mark hummed as he nodded, then asked for the bill, but the girl didn’t give it to him because she said that the man had requested them not to, and since he was technically the paying customer, she is not allowed to breach the customer/organization confidentiality.

Mark sighed, but thanked her anyway, got into his car, and drove to university.

Once he got there, he parked the car and took a selfie in it, making a grumpy face.

 _“Someone paid for April and now she feels used.”_ He captioned, receiving endless laughing and monkey emojis from the pair.

While Mark was busy smiling at his phone, he didn’t notice that Youngjae had opened the passenger door and slid in. When he noticed him, though, he yelped.

“What the fuck, Jae?” Mark asked, clutching his chest.

“Oops, sorry, hyung.” Youngjae said, but he didn’t look sorry.

“Are you okay?” Mark asked, looking at his friend while trying to hide his phone.

“What were you so engrossed in?” Youngjae asked, but Mark dodged that.

“A joke,” He quickly replied, but Youngjae looked suspicious. “What do you call a cow with no legs?” Mark just said the first joke he remembered.

“I don’t know, Mark, what?” Youngjae didn’t even think about it.

“Ground beef.” Mark answered, giggling like he really had said the funniest thing in the world.

“I can’t believe I call you my best friend.” Youngjae shook his head and rolled his eyes, exiting the car.

“Aww, am I really your best friend?” Mark asked, following him.

“No, I just cook, clean, lend thousand dollar suits, and share dogs with everyone.” Youngjae sarcastically drawled, and Mark giggled, crushing the Korean boy in a hug.

“You’re my best friend too, Youngjae-ah.”

That heartfelt best friendship declaration left Mark guilty about hiding his relationship from Youngjae, so for the rest of the day, he kept trying to tell him, but it never seemed like the right time, or place, or conversation, so he always ended up changing the topic.

At around 3, Mark had a free hour to work in the studio for his project, so Youngjae, who was waiting for his 3:30 class, decided to keep Mark company. While Mark was busy setting up his laptop, he didn’t notice that Youngjae was flipping through his camera, until it was shoved in his face.

“Is this Bellamy?” Youngjae asked, and Mark saw the pictures he had taken of the black-haired boy at the event, so he nodded.

Youngjae hummed, then asked, “I forgot to ask you, how’d the date go?”

Mark tensed up, then actively avoided the subject by vaguely saying that it was good and they had a nice time.

“So, does that mean you have a boyfriend now?” Youngjae asked, looking at Mark expectantly. Mark knew that there was only one way out of that one.

“About that,” Mark laughed. “Funny story…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE ARE SO SORRY FOR THE LATE UPDATE!!! But I have work, and S has uni, so we were pretty busy this week! also, writer's block is a bitch.  
> this was more of a filler but it will get better soon. You know who should get better soon? JACKSON-AH!!!! I heard he has anemia, my little baby!! Get well soon, Jackson oppa!!!
> 
> Keep the love coming! your comments mean the world to us!


	9. ix. Crab Sushi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark is a good boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! Hardcore-ish sex. Mentions of constraining, harshness, sadism, and a daddy kink? oops. (Might be a bit cringe-worthy)

With a promise to tell him later, Mark let Youngjae reluctantly go to class.

He really did want to tell his best friend everything, but Youngjae’s phone rang and he had to go to class. It was a blessing, maybe a curse, but Mark sighed a little.

“I'm waiting for you at 8, okay? I swear to God, Mark, if you don't show up at my doorstep, I will hunt you down.” Youngjae threatened, and Mark crossed his heart and hoped to die.

At 4, Mark exited the faculty building, and walked into the parking lot, spotting the Mercedes almost instantly; just like everyone else. It was a very flashy car.

Mark jogged over and slid into the backseat, grinning at his boyfriends who smiled back at him.

They fell into a typical conversation about their days and the plans for lunch. Bambam and Jackson had planned a simple lunch date, and by simple, they meant a full-course meal at a 5-star restaurant downtown, but who was Mark to determine their definition of simple.

They had so much fun; at least Mark did. He laughed until his sides hurt, and he ate his heart’s content. Bambam and Jackson enjoyed the night too, spoiling Mark with food until he couldn't breathe.

At around 8, Mark requested to be dropped off at his university because that's where his car was. Before he exited the car, he leaned into the front seat and gave both boys kisses on the lips, before he promised them to be safe, then they waited until he was driving off till they drove home also.

Mark was almost gonna curve Youngjae, but the moment he inserted his key into the door, Youngjae’s door flew open, rapid-fire questions leaving his mouth, as his hands clamped onto Mark’s shirt and pulled him inside his apartment.

“Hyung,” Youngjae started. “I think you have something to tell me.”

As Mark sat on the couch, faced by his best friend who was about to get the shock of his life, he felt anxious; something he was very used to feeling.

In cases of severe anxiety, Mark would do one of two things: one, he would panic- which is pretty common. He would speak fast, he would get sweaty, his nerves would be on haywire, and he would end up hitting something. Or two (which was something his high school counselor suggested), he would count the stars, or the trees, or the pigeons in the park. He would just count.

Now, at 23, Mark has 3 notebooks. Or as he likes to call them, star books. It's been around 7 years since he first started keeping track. He counted stars ever night without fail. Then as he got older, it became less frequent, but till now, it has been the only thing that calms him down.

“You wanna count stars?” Youngjae asked, concerned.

Mark shook his head. “No, I wanna tell you first.”

Youngjae nodded, then picked up Coco who was pawing at his legs, and put her in Mark’s lap.

Mark stroked Coco’s fur as she nestled herself into the crook of his arm, then he took in a big breath as the words started leaving his mouth.

“Okay, so how am I gonna word this, basically, uhm,” Mark struggled, then, “You know what? Fuck it. Bellamy and I had an amazing date. We talked and laughed and you know, typical date things, and I was gonna take him to that spot we found, behind the park, remember it? Yeah, but then he tells me that he has a boyfriend.”

“What?” Youngjae’s initial shock was expected, but Mark decided to just spring everything at him all at once.

“Yeah, that’s what I said, and I asked him if he was cheating but he said no? like? His boyfriend knew about me all along, and then April broke down, and Bellamy called Jonah, his boyfriend, to pick us up, and then, you know the worst part? The guy’s fucking gorgeous.” Mark kept speaking, even with Youngjae looking like he was about to pop a vein.

“Mar-” Youngjae tried, but Mark didn’t give him the chance to speak.

“No, wait, that’s not the worst part. The worst part is that they both asked me to date them. You know like, at the same time, like a three-way relationship, and I freaked out, so they took me to their house and it’s one of those huge ones at the east side, which means they’re fucking loaded, and we had wine and weed, lots of them, and spoke about Overwatch, and M&Ms, maybe, then we all made out and it was so fucking amazing, then I passed out.” Mark heaved a big breath, but then continued before Youngjae could say anything.

“The next morning, we ate banana pancakes, and I didn’t feel bad at all, I just felt nice, and then I said yes, Youngjae. So, now I guess I have two boyfriends with whom I had lunch today in that 5-star restaurant we never could afford.”

At the end of Mark’s rant, Youngjae’s face was red. He said nothing for the first couple of minutes, he just stood up and started pacing around the room, looking deep in thought, until he finally stood facing Mark.

“So, you’re telling me that two old, strange, creepy dudes, asked you to be part of a polygamy, with a promise to be your sugar daddies, and you said yes?” Youngjae asked, voice sounding between angry and frustrated.

“Well, they’re not old, Jay is 27 and Bellamy is-” Mark tried to explain, but Youngjae interrupted him.

“Shut the fuck up, hyung. Do you not realize the extent of your stupidity?”

“Youngjae, it’s not that bad, believe me. You just worded it to sound bad.” Mark huffed, laughing nervously, and Youngjae flicked him on the forehead.

“Not bad? Two strangers asked you out at the same time and you said yes! How is that not bad?” Youngjae yelled, causing both Mark and Coco to flinch.

“Because they’re good people.” Mark argued.

“You’ve known them for a week!” Youngjae could not believe how Mark was acting.

“So? That’s enough time to know that they’re good people. It’s not like I’m gonna marry them.” Mark huffed, putting Coco down.

“It’s not about marriage, Mark, it’s about the weirdness of this. Why do they need a third person in their relationship? Don’t you think it’s bizarre?” The other boy asked.

“It doesn’t matter. I swear to you they’re good people, Jae. They’ve been very respectful to me, and they never did anything without my consent.” Mark sighed.

“Please tell me you did not have a threesome with them.” Youngjae closed his eyes, rubbing his temples.

“I didn’t,” Mark said. “Yet.” He added under his breath but Youngjae heard it.

“Mark!” He scolded, flopping down on the couch.

“What? I’m being honest with you. Sex with Bellamy was the best of my life, imagine what it would be like with another hot guy in the mix.”

“I don’t want to imagine, hyung. That’s disgusting.” Youngjae gagged.

“Well, it’s not to me.” Mark said, sitting on the couch again.

“Listen, I know you’re a hippy liberal artist that does not limit himself to any social constraint or conduct or whatever, but this is just a bit too much, hyung.” The Korean boy stated.

“I don’t see why you’re so against it. It’s like dating each one of them separately. But they’re together.” Mark said, fiddling with his fingers.

Youngjae stayed silent for a minute, contemplating, then he sighed. “I’ve never told you how to live your life, and I won’t start now. But this is bigger than anything you have ever done before, and you have to be 200 times more careful than usual, you hear me?”

“I will be, it’s not like I’m giving them anything other than physical affection. I don’t even love them yet. Till now, they’re just nice to have around, feelings will come later.” Mark smiled uneasily at Youngjae, not even believing himself because he was already halfway attached to the two boys.

“This is gonna end up so badly, you just wait and see.” Youngjae sighed.

“Maybe,” Mark said. “But I have thick skin, remember? I’ll make it through just fine.”

“I hope life gives you everything you deserve, Mark Tuan. Cause you deserve the best, and I hope to God those two are the best for you.” Best friend extraordinaire Choi Youngjae, with all condensed 23 years of wisdom, said, patting Mark’s shoulder in support, and it was all Mark needed.

\----

“Baby!! Pick up the phone.” Jackson yelled from the bathroom, mouth full of toothpaste.

He heard the padding of feet on the tile floor before the unmistakable sound of the skype call stopped.

“Hey, Jaebum-ah.” Bambam’s voice said as he carried his iPad into the bathroom where Jackson still was.

“Hey, Bambie,” Jaebum replied, his face looking tired as hell. “Jacks.”

“What’s up, JB?” Jackson asked after he spit out the foam.

“Same old, same old. Got held back at work for the last couple of days. I haven’t slept in like 30 hours or so.” Jaebum said, then he let out a yawn.

Jaebum works at an IT company. He was the one who taught Jackson everything about everything. Without him, the couple would be nothing but petty thieves. He’s been their best friend for almost a decade; they trust him with their lives, and vice versa.

“Shit, man. Go get some sleep.” Bambam said, looking concerned for the wellbeing of their friend.

“I will, I just wanted to tell you that you got to lay low for another week. There have been a couple of complications in Chile, and it’s still not safe for you guys to go. I have extended the lease and you still have the car. Just don’t attract attention, and don’t do anything stupid.” Jaebum pointedly said.

Both boys sighed. “This fucks up all my plans, Jae.” Bambam exclaimed.

“I know, I’m sorry, but my connections have not responded to me yet, and I won’t send you in blind.” Jaebum said, rubbing his eyes.

“What are we supposed to do for a week?” Jackson huffed, walking with Bambam back into their room and settling on the bed.

Jaebum looked like he was about to reach through the screen and smack him. “Jacks, you’re in LA. You have heaps of money, a boyfriend, and no responsibilities whatsoever.”

“But you told us not to do anything stupid. Everything Bambam and I do is stupid.” Jackson argued, and Bambam giggled but nodded in agreement.

“Then just stay home and fuck each other, I don’t care, as long as you don’t get yourselves in trouble.” Jaebum sighed.

“Okay, seems like a plan.” Bambam said, kissing Jackson’s pouty lips. Jackson hummed and Jaebum sighed again, used to his friends randomly making out.

“I didn’t mean when I’m still here, you hormonal assholes.” He flipped them the finger.

“Someday you’re gonna wanna join us.” Jackson suggested, wiggling his eyebrows.

Jaebum made fake gagging noises. “Thanks, but no, thanks, hun. I’m not interested.”

“Hmm, we’ll see.” Jackson challenged.

“Get lost, Jackson.” Jaebum said then hung up on them as Jackson laughed.

“Looks like we have one more week with the kid.” Bambam said, climbing onto Jackson’s lap.

“Hmm, doesn’t sound so bad.” Jackson said, curling his arms around Bambam’s waist.

“We’re stuck here anyway, we might as well have some fun with him.” The younger said.

“Whatever makes you happy, baby.” Jackson nuzzled his face into Bambam’s neck.

“Whatever makes you happy, makes me happy.” Bambam giggled.

“Such a cheese ball.” Jackson tickled Bambam’s sides.

“I’m serious, though, baby. You know whatever’s going on with Mark is just for fun. The moment Jae sends us those tickets, we’re gone.” Bambam said, running his fingers through Jackson’s hair.

“Oh, yeah, I know. He’s entertaining anyway. Easy to rile up, gullible as fuck, someone should really teach the kid not to trust people this fast.” Jackson shook his head.

“Yeah,” Bambam said, almost sounding sad. "We'll have to go around this as smoothly as possible, yeah? Without hurting the kid."

"Of course, baby, without anyone getting hurt." Jackson agreed.

“Anyway, enough about Mark now, I want to take a nap.” Bambam wiggled out of Jackson's grip.

“Aww, baby is sleepy?” Jackson cooed as Bambam yawned and crept under the covers to sleep.

Bambam nodded, then made grabby hands at Jackson. “Nap with me?”

Jackson chuckled, but slept under the covers anyway and allowed the younger to climb on top of him.

They slept for about two hours, and when they woke up, they texted Mark to invite him over to dinner.

Mark said he couldn’t because he had exams, but he agreed to come over on Sunday, a couple of days later. Once they settled it, the boys spent the rest of the day playing video games and lounging around the house.

On Sunday, Jackson attempted to cook some recipe he found on the back of the pasta box they had in the cupboard, but an hour later, he had soggy pasta, a watery sauce, and burnt potatoes.

“We can do this!” Jackson cheered on, despite the mess that used to be their kitchen, while shuffling through the cupboard to find something else to cook.

“Yeah, no. We’re definitely ordering.” Bambam huffed as he threw the burnt potatoes from the oven and into the trashcan, including the dish. God only knows what kind of toxic substances they created while trying to cook.

Bambam wiped the sauce that managed to get on Jackson’s frowning face and proceeded to dial a number he found online of a sushi bar. “I feel like crab sushi anyway. Do you want me to order anything else?”

Jackson looked at him and winked, “Your ass if it’s on the menu.” earning him a sigh and an eye roll.

“I’m glad my boyfriend thinks my ass is available on restaurant menus for everyone.” Bambam said.

Finally, Jackson told Bambam to order a huge assortment of sushi, giving up on his far-fetched dream of cooking something. Jackson thought it would be nice to have a home-cooked meal for a change, which was a bit ironic since they never had a “home” to begin with, it’s always a temporary roof over their heads. And since, well, Bambam couldn’t cook to save his life and Jackson’s cooking skills, even though are good, are not really chef level for a fancy meal, they settled that ordering sushi is their safest bet.

After they ordered, they decided to hop in the bathtub and scrub off the smell of burning carbs that clung to their hair and clothes. There was no reason for the bathtub but Bambam really wanted to try these bath bombs he bought a long time ago in Paris, but with their schedules, they have been too busy being on the move to actually take moments to themselves.

Bambam took in the smell of the bath bomb, remembering the shop they walked into while roaming the roads of Paris; they were a bit buzzed but they’ve just gotten $15,000 richer and had to celebrate, and what’s better than some bath bombs and rose wine?

“We should go back to France if we ever decide to take a break from this mess.” Bambam said as he sat between Jackson’s legs, the later laying back on the tub.

“Rather, we should live in France.” Jackson suggested, dripping water on Bambam’s exposed back, the glitter from the bomb shimmering on his skin, a sight Jackson admired.

Bambam only sighed, so Jackson decided not to proceed. They’ve had multiple disappointing conversations about settling down and today, with Mark’s dinner being in a few hours, he just decided to let it go and enjoy the lukewarm water with the little version of a home that he has.

After spending over an hour in the bathtub, the couple got up to get dressed. Jackson dressed casually, with a grey t-shirt that showed his pecks, and skinny fitting black jeans that showed off his built thighs, accessorized with a necklace that draped on his chest, and just left his hair the way it is, content with how his blonde locks covered his left eye as it was ruffled.

Meanwhile, Bambam threw on a velvet dress shirt with angel wings imprints on the collar to give it that extra touch he was notorious for, but struggled with his choice of pants to which Jackson commented, “We’re having dinner in the house, Bammie, just wear something I can easily rip off.”

Bambam struggled to hit the other as he was buckling the belt on his tight dark jeans, and proceeded to fix his hair; that dragged on for a good 75 minutes.

Jackson insisted on driving Mark, a plot well set so Mark would not be able to go home willingly without a drive from the elder, and thus a win situation for the couple. Evil, yes but they really wanted the kid to stay over and spend as much time with him for they knew it’ll all be over before they knew it. So Bambam took on setting the table, lighting a few candles around the dining room that they actually never stepped foot in.

He took a look at the room, content with his little set up. There were numerous bottles of wine and whiskey, surrounding the sushi that arrived right before Jackson left, settled on the long dining table that was draped by a red cloth extending all the way to the floor. Bambam opened the curtains of the glass window that extended from the ceiling to the floor, exposing the view that came with the house. It showed a bit of the mountains ahead of them that were lit by the stars that night, and the backyard, which had the Jacuzzi and pool.

\--

Jackson was parked beside Mark’s apartment complex, resting against his car as he waited for the younger after he texted him that he arrived. 5 minutes later, he saw Mark running down the stairs, almost tumbling down. Apparently, the elevator was broken again and Mark cursed since the lamps were burnt off too and had to depend on his phone for lighting.

“Woah there, someone’s a bit excited.” Jackson chuckled taking on the face of the flustered kid that was frantically fixing his clothes.

“Hi.” Mark said awkwardly, his cheeks flushed, then he proceeded to hide his face before Jackson leaned in to kiss his cheek and take his hands. “Someone looks good.” he complemented and Mark relaxed a bit.

“Don’t compliment yourself like that, it’s a bit cocky.” Mark said and Jackson laughed out loud. Mark was brave enough to kiss him and Jackson happily responded, grabbing him by the hips. They made out for a while under the dim lights from the windows of the building and rode off after a complaint or two from the neighbors. The car ride wasn’t that smooth because at every red light, Jackson’s lips glued onto the other’s, both of them seeming not to get enough of the other’s taste. And let’s just say the third was impatiently waiting for the two at the house.

“I had two scenarios for this,” Bambam said as he opened the door and crossed his arms when Jackson’s car rolled into the drive way and the two boys got out. “You either died in a crash or decided to ditch me,” he nagged on but one was now hugging him while the other kissed his cheek repeatedly.

“You smell so good, baby.” Jackson remarked while the other added, “And look so good too, oh how on earth are we this lucky.” and hugged Bambam even harder.

"Okay, okay, no more.” Bambam giggled.

Mark’s stomach fluttered at the view as they entered the dining room; he wasn’t sure he would even manage to eat without throwing up everything. The way the candle lights danced on his lovers’ skin was astonishing. It was still a funny thought to him, “lovers”, but now that he thinks about it, he wouldn’t trade that for anything; the thought of the others not being there would make it…incomplete.

They sat down and ate the sushi with Jackson hilariously stabbing the pieces with one of the chopsticks, before shoving them in his mouth. For Bambam, it was a usual sight to see, but Mark couldn’t help but choke on his food after struggling to keep a chuckle in.

“Hey, I might be Asian, but no one taught me how to use these.” Jackson said pointing at the chopsticks. “I never got the magic of them.” he then added, laughing into his glass of wine.

Mark was on his third glass of wine and was starting to feel buzzed, because before he knew it, he was saying all kinds of stupid shit he would never open up about. After the usual small talk exchanged about their day, they went on to talk about their careers, past and families, and then they somehow managed to drift to Mark’s sexuality and his first male experience.

Bambam and Jackson lied through most the conversation. To be fair, the pair would have to answer more questions if they ever manage to tell him about their actual past. Jackson told Mark that he worked with an IT company that collaborates with the FBI (lie, but it sounded cool enough) and that he and Bambam were neighbors when they were young (not exactly a lie), hence why they know each other for so long. Bambam’s mother was a single mother (truth) a widow to be exact, his father died in a car accident in his 40’s (lie). And Jackson was from a conservative Chinese family that expected too much of him (lie), being an only child (Jackson isn’t sure if this is exactly a lie). They never lied about the place though, telling him that they’re from New York, where they actually grew up.

They talked about Mark’s career too, how he wants to be a professional photographer. He aims to be an employee at National Geographic, where he would roam the earth and photograph the wildest of animals -cue Jackson’s joke about photographing Bambam which earned him a smack on the head.

Bit by bit, they got closer to each other, both figuratively and physically because Bambam was soon brushing Mark’s hand with his fingers, caressing his life line as he spoke about Daniel. Daniel, was Mark’s first crush. It would sound like a cliché high school love story, however they didn’t last and Mark was left broken.

They met in detention, hence the cliché, and after half an hour of staring at the board and walls they got to talk and know each other. Mark was still bullied for his looks, being 16 and of Asian descent, and Daniel was a senior. He helped Mark, beating any person that would dare remark anything racist about the kid, and soon Mark fell hard for Daniel’s safety and comfort. They first kissed in the empty classroom after Mark confessed his feelings, 6 months later. They kissed again in the movie theater and then again and again and again in Daniel’s room and any place where it seemed safe enough.

Their little romance didn’t last because soon after Daniel was off to college in England and left no promises for Mark to return or for them to last. They never had sex; Mark was always hesitant and inexperienced and Daniel well, he was having a hard time coping with his new found sexuality, but for Mark it was natural; being a liberal stereotypical artist, he always thought human beings are free to like and be attracted to anyone that appeals to them regardless of their gender.

Bambam and Jackson laughed at that thought; they never really thought about it before. The whole sexuality thing seemed to only revolve around the two of them only, if Bambam were to answer he would actually answer with Jackson and vice versa.

5 cups in and Mark was eyeing the jacuzzi in the backyard. “I never really knew you had that!” he exclaimed; at this range of alcohol he didn’t really filter out his thoughts or suppress his emotions and was soon saying everything on his mind. “This house is just too big. Don’t you ever feel lonely?”

Jackson and Bambam looked at each other before Bambam proceeded to answer. “We limit ourselves to some of the rooms in the house in order to stay close to each other, we never actually used this room before and we barely know the other half of the house.” he said and they all chuckled. “So, if I told you I want to get in that jacuzzi, it would require us to roam around?” Mark asked cheekily, turning around to face the two.

“We actually know our way around to it.” Jackson said with a hitched breath.

“Then what are you waiting for? Let’s go.” Mark giggled and bit his lip as Bambam took his hand and started guiding him down to the backyard.

“There’s a pool too?!” The pool was on the other side of the backyard extending to the jacuzzi hence why Mark couldn’t see it, adding in the darkness and his buzz to that. Mark was a tad bit too excited because once they stepped into the yard, he was taking off his shirt ready to dive into the pool, but was stopped by Jackson who was soon admiring his figure.

“Woah there,” Jackson laughed. “You shouldn’t do that while being intoxicated, I don’t want you dead yet.” he added grabbing Mark’s hands, that were on his belt as he was ready to undress, leaning in to whisper in the kid’s ear after yanking him closer. “That’s our job to do.”

Jackson’s breath smelled of whiskey and Mark attacked his lips, tongue first, consuming Jackson’s mouth and roaming every bit and corner of it. “I didn’t get a taste of that whiskey yet.” he explained and it drove Jackson insane.

Mark’s figure was attacked by small kisses from Bambam and was sloppily dragged to the jacuzzi. They have no idea how they undressed each other as they were all frantically going at each other’s mouths. Bambam’s dress shirt was a ruined mess and Mark’s shirt was nowhere to be found for it was randomly thrown into the darkness that engulfed it. Jackson interrupted the two throwing them both inside the raging water before he went in too, all three of them only in their boxers.

It was a hectic mess and Mark was sure he wouldn’t recall most of their actions; they were all hungry despite their meal, hungry for each other and for some reason, their kisses only made them crave more. The fragile figure that was Mark’s body was once again smashed between the other two, his neck resting on the edge of the jacuzzi. Jackson tugged on his hair hard and Mark was sure that any sudden movement would actually lead his neck to fracture. Bambam bit and sucked at all the exposed skin of Mark’s neck all while Jackson licked and flicked his nipples with his tongue, making adrenaline spiral up all the way to his brain, causing his sight to blur.

Mark’s breath was frantic and his dick was embarrassingly up, exposing the boner that was now too much for his boxers to handle. He tried to move his hands to grab onto the two, but his hands were gripped tight by Jackson, and were soon going numb, losing all sensation and driving it all to his bulge that seemed to sense every swish of water in the jacuzzi from their movements.

“Your daddies will only spoil you today, baby boy.” Jackson whispered and Bambam traced his hands all over Mark’s chest, down to his boxers and then cupped his dick.

Bambam gently grabbed on Mark’s dick and was soon undressing him with his other hand. Mark’s moans were loud and uncontrolled so Bambam covered his mouth quick.

“Loud boys get punished.” Bambam said and his nails dug gently on the younger’s length. Only, Mark seemed to be enjoying that, letting out another moan under the latter’s hand, making  Jackson tug at his hair even more.

Everything was so overwhelming to Mark, and his head spiraled with all the sensations. His dick was standing upright, and as Mark was close, so, so close, Bambam removed his hand, left Mark on one side of the Jacuzzi and dragged Jackson to the other.

Mark was confused as he shuddered from the sudden lack of contact, he never thought he’d be the one to beg but it seems like he is, however the only response was a gentle slap from Jackson “We want you sober for what comes next love” he said then kissed his cheek as they left him untouched.

Mark whined, opening his eyes to take in the sight ahead of him. Bambam was straddling Jackson’s lap, with the water up to the middle of their torsos. Their lips were connected, tongues dragging against each other’s as they made out loudly. Jackson’s hands were kneading Bambam’s ass, bunching his boxers with his fists and pulling them up until Bambam let out a mewl, disconnecting their lips to sigh in content.

Mark’s dick stirred, so he braced his hands against the edge of the jacuzzi tub to lift himself up, but Bambam’s arm extended to stop him.

“No, baby boy,” he ticked his tongue thrice. “Stay put.”

Mark whined even more, but still tried to stand up again. As he advanced more, Bambam gave his chest a little shove, and Mark stumbled backwards, falling back to the seat.

“That's not fair.” Mark nagged, dragging his hand slowly up and down his dick to relieve the strain.

Jackson told him to stop, threatening him with consequences, but Mark was moaning loudly, his hand working up and down his length faster.

“Mark, darling, stop.” Bambam said, his voice low and rumbling, but Mark was too far gone.

Bambam sighed, detaching himself from Jackson, and moving to where Mark was. He grabbed his wrist and ripped his hand away from his cock, holding it with the other above his head.

“I told you to stop.” Bambam whispered in the younger’s ear, his nails digging into the inside of Mark’s thigh, resulting in a moan.

“You should get punished for not listening to Daddy.” The black-haired boy smirked against Mark’s skin, sucking a red, angry mark on the sensitive skin of his collarbone.

“Never thought we'd have Daddy kinks.” Jackson remarked, his chest heaving with a strained chuckle.

Mark was shaking underneath Bambam, his hand trying to break free to touch himself, but Jackson was quick to hold his thighs down while Bambam kept an iron grip on his hands.

To say Mark was crying was an understatement, all sensations of pain and pleasure and the buzz were overwhelming him and he needed a release, but Jackson and Bambam weren't having any of it, and they haven’t even started yet.

Bambam spotted Mark’s and his belt somewhere on the floor next to the tub, so he reached down for them, smirking as he dangled them in front if the younger’s face.

“You left me no choice, baby boy,” Bambam ticked his tongue, then licked Mark’s ear. “Daddy doesn't like it when his little boy doesn't listen.”

With the help of Jackson, Bambam managed to tie Mark’s hands to different handles on the side of the tub using the belts, so now Mark’s arms were open wide, constrained, as he wiggled, trying to free himself.

“Bellamy, oh God, please,” Mark tried, breathing heavily. His cock was so hard, its head red and leaking with precum, dissolving into the water that engulfed it. “Jay, I need to…”

Bambam chuckled, leaving small kisses on Mark’s nipples.

Mark’s moans were getting louder as Jackson bent Bambam over him, his arms at each side of Mark’s head. Jackson’s hand slowly crept down Bambam’s spine, kneading his ass and kissing the sensitive skin.

Bambam moaned right over Mark’s ear, making the latter moan as well, withering even more. Mark was loud, and it turned on the other two so bad, they had to suck in deep breaths.

“You're so fucking loud, sweetheart.” Jackson said, leaving Bambam to tug on Mark’s hair and attack his mouth with a kiss that ended too soon.

Mark’s lips trembled, his eyes shooting open to gaze at Jackson’s and Bambam’s smirks. He let out a wounded sound, struggling against his constraints once more. Bambam took off his boxers, slowly, dragging it off his dick as Mark zeroed his eyes on the hard member between Bambam’s legs, licking his lips as a groan came from the back of his throat.

Bambam was an evil son of a bitch, somehow sadistic, so he brought up the cloth and shoved it in Mark’s mouth, stopping his noises. It wasn't enough to silence him, but it was good enough to muffle the moans as they kept tumbling out of Mark’s lips.

When the older two were satisfied, they slid back to the seat across Mark, with Jackson sitting down and Bambam straddling his lap. Bambam resumed to kiss Jackson, using more tongue than lips, and more teeth than usual. His hands slid down to take off Jackson’s boxers, and when they were both naked, their dicks brushed against each other, driving out choked moans from both of them.

Mark was watching, wide-eyed and panting, as Jackson’s hand disappeared under the water, behind Bambam, to probably prep the younger.

“Damn, baby, you seem tighter tonight.” Jackson groaned, his other hand holding Bambam’s waist to lift him up just a little bit. Bambam mewled, lowering himself into Jackson's three fingers that were stretching him open.

After a little while, Bambam’s breathing intensified, and he deemed that he was ready. Jackson removed his hand, and brought it up to hold Bambam’s waist, lifting him up, and lining his dick with the younger’s entrance.

Bambam’s mouth was open wide, as he was breathing too heavily, then his hands cupped Jackson’s face, one of his thumbs parting his lips and entering his mouth just as Bambam lowered himself into his boyfriend's dick, inch by inch until it filled him up.

Jackson sucked on Bambam’s thumb, and when he bottomed out, he bucked his hips upwards, making Bambam scream.

Mark thrashed about, moaning and groaning, his voice muffled and strained. Bambam took a few seconds to adjust to the fullness, but Jackson's needy moans got him into action. With his knees, and the help from Jackson’s hands, Bambam raised himself up, almost until the tip of Jackson’s member, then slowly, with his eyes locked with Mark’s from over his shoulder, he lowered himself back down. All three of them groaned at the same time, then Bambam decided to end the suffering, so he braced his hands on Jackson’s shoulder, and used the leverage to fuck himself onto Jackson’s dick, circling his hips to create friction so sweet, it made them see stars.

They weren't using any lube, just the water to smoothen the movement. As Bambam kept riding Jackson, the latter’s eyes were fixated on Mark’s, darkening even more with lust over the other boy whose chest was moving up and down rapidly, arm muscles bulging at the force he was putting in attempts to free his hands.

Somehow, Mark was able to spit out the fabric, and when Bambam noticed, his fucks got sloppy because he was too distracted by how absolutely wrecked Mark looked.

“Do you want to come, Mark?” Bambam asked, raising himself up and slamming down so hard, Jackson’s dick hit his prostate. At the intensity of the feeling, Bambam’s thighs shuddered, and Jackson’s hands tightened on his hips, helping him. Bambam’s walls tightened even more around Jackson's member, making it hard for them to move at the speed they were at.

“Fuck, baby, you're so tight.” Jackson repeated his earlier proclamation, eyes rolling to the back of his skull.

Mark was oddly quiet, so the couple looked at him, and saw that his eyes were shut close.

“Oh, no, baby boy,” Jackson groaned, feeling himself get close. “Open your eyes.”

Mark was a hardheaded motherfucker, the older two noticed, as he kept his eyes shut.

“Open your eyes and we will let you come, Mark.” Bambam breathed out, making lewd noises as Jackson kept pounding into him.

Reluctantly, Mark opened his eyes, and looked at the two boys fucking from under his lashes.

“Beg for it, darling.” Bambam said, his pace getting slower and slower as he felt himself almost reaching his climax. Jackson’s hand reached between them to grip Bambam’s abandoned member, stroking his thumb against the slit, then pumping it slowly, almost agonizingly slow.

Bambam held his breath, adamant to have Mark come untouched. Mark sucked in a breath, eyes fixated on how Bambam’s ass swallowed Jackson’s dick whole.

“Please…” Mark moaned, feeling the knot in his stomach tighten.

“Please, what?” Jackson asked, nails digging into Bambam’s hips as he continued to ride him.

“P-please…” Mark groaned. “Please, Daddy.” He breathed out the last part, and both boys smirked, as Jackson’s hand closed around Bambam’s cock and gave it a few tugs until the latter came into his stomach and chest, Jackson milking out every last drop.

Bambam didn't stop moving, circling his hips a few times until he felt Jackson’s load against his walls. He rode him through his high, both of them letting out loud moans, not daring to say each other’s names, but they whispered them in each other’s ear, along with little nothings.

They were too distracted with each other that they didn't notice Mark had stopped moaning, but when they looked at him, they noticed how his muscles shook, and then he came undone, mewling quietly as he finally reached the sweet release.

Bambam carefully lifted himself off Jackson, looking thoroughly fucked, with his hair slicked backwards. He gave Jackson a deep kiss, before he slid over to Mark, and untied him. Both boys helped him stand up, kissing his reddened wrists over and over, throwing multiple apologies his way, between each fluttery kiss on his sensitive skin.

“Your daddies are so proud of you, darling,” one of them said, kissing the crown of the youngest boy’s head. “You were such a good boy.” The other added.

They noticed that they had to get out of the water because it had become colder, and soiled with multiple bodily fluids.

Bambam got out first, wrapping Mark with towel before leaving lazy kisses on his chest; Mark would’ve nagged but he seemed powerless and exhausted so he allowed the two to drag him to what looked like their bedroom and before he knew it, drapes of black were closing in on him. Jackson pulled an oversized sweater and a pair of boxers onto him, tucking him in the middle of the king-sized bed. After dressing in whatever their hands could get, the older boys got into bed, and Bambam laid his head on Mark’s chest while Jackson cuddled him from the back.

“Goodnight, baby boy.” they muttered before throwing gentle kisses behind Mark’s ears and on his chest.

Mark sighed in content, feeling fucked out and exhausted. Somehow, he fell asleep, warmth engulfing him, and he felt safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First and foremost, we would like to thank @Hananess, our lovely friend, for the endless support and love, and the suggestion of the daddy kink. If it weren't for your suggestion, we probably wouldn't have gone with it haha Thank you, cutie~!  
> Second, for this chapter, we kinda switched roles, and I (R) wrote the smut >.< while S wrote the fluff, so tell us how it went.  
> Third, our updates are going to be at this rate (I know, it hurts us too) because S has university while I am busy with family and whatnot. So we apologize in advance.  
> We hope you enjoyed this chapter, and sorry again for the cringe!  
> Keep the love coming~!


	10. x. Spaghetti & Meatballs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blurred lines have Mark confused

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! Hardcore-ish sex (again). A threesome. Mentions of blindfolding, daddy kink (we're sorry), some more kinks, a little physical harshness, and mental illnesses. (That escalated quickly)  
> *The underlined words are hyperlinks to pictures, make sure to check them out!

Mark woke up with a weird smothery type of feeling; his chest felt tight and it was a bit hard for him to breathe. He forced open one eye only to see Bambam on top of him and a smile crept on his face. He didn’t want to move to disturb the human koala that clung onto him, but he managed to creep out his hand from under the sheets to stroke his messy hair. Even after the steamy event in the jacuzzi, Bambam still smelled of jasmine, a scent that Mark loved so much, and remembering last night’s events made him blush, letting out a slight giggle.

To that, a grouch and sigh escaped the other human behind him, Jackson’s hot breath hitting Mark’s ear, giving him goosebumps.

Jackson suddenly moved to wrap his arms and legs around the two despite his short limbs. “Good morning.” Jackson managed to utter into Mark’s ear before stuffing his face in the crook of Mark’s neck and pecking it. Mark blushed even harder but managed to say good morning back and Jackson’s arms snaked to grab his sleeve paws.

“We should’ve given you Bellamy’s sweater; mine looks like it will swallow you whole,” Jackson laughed before pecking his paws. “Cute.” he then remarked.

A sudden groan escaped the koala hybrid while the other two were staring at each other with giddy eyes.

“Jay-ah, move your leg.” Bambam mumbled shoving Jackson’s leg off him before rubbing his eyes and sitting up straight with his face swollen and hair poking all around; his eyes were half open and a yawn escaped his frowny mouth.

Mark laughed at the grumpiness of the latter, exposing his fangs and Jackson couldn’t help but eye them. “Did you ever hurt someone with your teeth, Mark?” he asked and the younger’s smile withered and he flushed, so Jackson laughed and hugged his waist.

“Would love to experience your bite someday.” Jackson then added, kissing the nape of Mark’s neck, and the latter hid his face with his sleeves, letting out a small giggle. Bambam was unamused, being the grump lump that he is in the morning, and told the two to hush up and go back to sleep since it’s only 10 am, a little too early for what his hung-over self would prefer.

Mark yelped at that announcement, for he had an 11 am class that day, he was half an hour away from university and it would take him time to get his copybooks from his apartment. “I have to go, I have class in an hour.” Mark said as he jumped out of bed. shivering from the sudden loss of warmth. He frantically searched for his clothes but was stopped by Jackson soon after.

“It’s okay, skip university for today and let’s have a lazy day, the three of us.” Jackson cooed as he snuck his hands under Mark’s (technically his) hoodie, tickling his tummy. Mark let out a giggle but insisted that he’d already skipped too much and that he has to leave, but before he could move any further, Jackson grabbed him and slammed him on the bed and was soon on top of him giving out endless kisses on his exposed face and neck.

Bambam took the chance to wrap Mark, who struggled and giggled in Jackson’s embrace, in the bed sheets. “There, now you’re a human burrito and burritos don’t have responsibilities.” Bambam then mused.

Mark was still uncontrollably giggling. “If I’m a burrito, then you’re going to be a burrito too.” he then said, grabbing onto Bambam with the arm that managed to escape, forcing him into the sheets.

The three of them were a panting mess after their little tickle fight, but Mark was still determined to leave since his absence gets deducted from his overall class percentage, and he can’t have that. A few tugs here and there, then Jackson was fed up, so he ran to close the bedroom door before dropping the keys in his boxers.

“Stay, Markiepoo, please, we’ll be lonely and sad and miserable.” Bambam pleaded in a baby voice, while he sprawled himself on top of the younger, smothering him.

“We won’t be able to do banana pancakes either, and we’ll starve and die and you’ll be all to blame.” Jackson then added for good measures, before humming out a tune of a song that sounded familiar to Mark.

 _"But, baby, you hardly even notice_  
_when I try to show you this song is meant to keep you_  
_from doing what you're supposed to._  
_waking up too early_  
_maybe we can sleep in_  
_make you banana pancakes_  
_pretend like it's the weekend now and we can pretend it all the time.”_

Jackson sang into Mark’s ear, while the latter was still smothered by Bambam, who was of close weight to him.

“Did you really just use [Jack Johnson](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OkyrIRyrRdY) against me? Fuck, I guess I’m skipping then.” Mark said, before begging Jackson to remove the other boy from over him before he suffocated and died, and both of the elders dropped wet heavy kisses on each of his cheeks, happy that he’s finally succumbed.

“Shower?” they then mused, trying to drag the younger into the bathroom.

“Oh, no,” Mark protested, planting his feet into the ground. “I am never ever going into places where there is water with the two of you.”

The older boys laughed, but decided that it would be best if each showered on their own.

Later, Jackson and Mark did a little role play of master chef and helper while Bambam set the table, then they sat down and gobbled down the pancakes like they’ve been starved; their jacuzzi time really wearied them down, and they needed the energy to go through the day.

As promised, they had a lazy day in. Mark was dressed in an oversized hoodie and tight boxers since the two elder boys insisted, shoving the clothes into his arms before he went into the shower, Bambam in his usual lingerie and Jackson well, of course, in his usual sweatpants-only home attire, not that any of the other two were complaining. Jackson hugged Mark from the back as they sat on the floor of the living room and played _Overwatch_ , screaming terms that Bambam has yet to understand even after all the years of listening to Jackson.

Bambam retouched his manicure and slyly looked over the car event in Chile, looking for any information update; he noticed that Jaebum had tried to Skype call them. so he went upstairs into their bedroom, closed the door and called him back. Apparently, Jaebum had new equipment bought and he needed Jackson to come over and check them out today since he’ll be staying in LA for two nights only.

“Jay, baby, work called and they need you to check up on new equipment, they wouldn’t tell me much, saying it’s confidential.” Bambam said as he returned to the living room, holding a t-shirt for Jackson. Jackson groaned, but got up after pecking Mark on his shoulder. He took the shirt from Bambam’s hand and threw it on, kissing him on the lips and then stomping his way to grab the car keys from the kitchen counter.

Bambam and Mark giggled at his childish display, but soon after said goodbye to Jackson, waving at him, and blowing kisses his way, which he gladly accepted yelling out “eeps”, pretending to grab the kisses and plant them on his cheeks.

Mark and Bambam mostly made out after Jackson’s departure. They were sprawled on top of the leather couch in the living room while Bambam stroked Mark’s hair.

“I like it when you guys call me Markiepoo; it’s a nice nickname, keep it please.” Mark said before he nuzzled into Bambam’s chest hugging him even tighter. Bambam laughed at that before kissing his temple. “You’re such a fluffy baby, Markiepoo.”

They dosed off after a while before waking up to Jackson’s call saying that he’ll be late due to certain complications with work, and that they shouldn’t wait for him for lunch. Mark and Bambam decided that they would go out for ice cream instead before Jackson arrives and they would just have dinner together since they went a little heavy on the pancakes.

Bambam let Mark wander around the house after he got dressed in his pants but kept Jackson’s sweater, discovering every nook and cranny of it, while he prepped the house alarms and went to dress so they would soon leave for ice cream. Mark had questioned him about the boxes they left unopened and spread around the house, and Bambam answered with how they usually never bother to unpack since they’re always on the move. Bambam didn’t mind the younger’s curiosity, but kept an eye on him as he wandered about.

Mark was going down the basement stairs before Bambam heftily voiced out. “Heyah, Mark! Come back here, you sneaky one, no one is allowed in the basement,” Mark was confused at the sudden remark, but took a step back anyway, and Bambam managed to jog towards him. “The basement is Jay’s little confidential office, no one is allowed in there.” he then said helping the other regain his posture.

Mark was confused to why Jay’s office had to be confidential; he understood that Jay worked with the FBI, but it’s not like he’s prepping the country for war or an alien attack… maybe he had some confidentiality contract that he was bound to, but what made the situation weirder and made Mark doubt, was how jumpy and flustered the black-haired boy was acting.

Mark eyed the locked barrier between him and the basement before responding to Bambam with a half-assed, “Sorry, Lamie, I didn’t know.”

After that, Bambam went up to dress for their outing, so Mark hung around the kitchen eating a peach while dangling his feet off the counter. Bambam’s phone, that was on the counter, rang but Mark ignored it because it was none of his business, but it then rang a second time, so he decided to pick up after he had yelled for Bambam but got no answer. The caller ID flashed “ _private number”_ and he frowned at that.

Mark pressed the green button, and a raspy male voice began to speak before Mark could say anything, “Yah! Bambie, why don’t you pick up faster? I’m with Jackson and we finally got your new IDs ready. We just need you to confirm the information before I make the final calls.”

Mark was really confused for what seemed like the second time that day, and due to his utmost confusion, he didn’t realize that he was still silent.

“Bambam?” The man on the other end of the line asked.

Mark snapped out of his daze, and with a frown on his face, he replied. “Bambam? I’m sor-” but the phone was snatched from his hand before he could continue.

“Hello? Yes, sorry I think you have the wrong number. Yes, it’s okay, no worries, goodbye.” Bambam spoke out into the speaker of the phone before he ended the call, letting out a sigh.

“What was that all about?” Mark asked, frowning and crossing his arms. Bambam kissed his lips quickly, “Nothing you should worry about, someone just dialed a wrong number.” but Mark wasn’t all that convinced.

“You should’ve just left me to answer it, then, there was no need to snatch the phone like that.” he said a bit agitated. Bambam took Mark’s hands in his before dragging him out of the house.

“I’m sorry, darling, I thought it was my work calling.” He then spoke as an excuse, but Mark was smarter than he was given credit for. How come his work would call his private number, not the work number he had given him initially?

With Mark’s heavy thoughts, he drove the couple’s other car, a silver Range Rover (which they prepped as an emergency vehicle but Bambam bluffed that it was gifted to him by some business partners for his LA business) to a nearby park.

They sat on a rusty bench near the kids’ playground after they had gotten some ice cream cones. Despite the confusing events that rolled on, Mark enjoyed his time with Bambam as they spoke about each other’s anxiety. While they were showering in the morning, Mark noticed similar pills in their bathroom, and noticed Bambam take one.

This was one of the few times when Bambam felt like himself, despite the abundance of lies he had to carry on today, he was genuinely opening up about his true feelings. For some reason, he couldn’t lie to Mark about this, and so he let himself be vulnerable. Lying about his name and occupation was easy since they seem to be shallow things people could carry on without taking it into deep consideration, and for once in his life Bambam just wanted to be vulnerable.

He couldn’t lie about this no, despite the fact that it reveals an essential part of his personality, life and even his way of thinking. He faced a human being that seemed to have nothing but genuine interest, a kid that quickly welcomed two sleazy thieves into his heart and despite him being naïve, looked so deeply into his eyes and through him like he understood the absurd complexity that was him.

So, he told Mark everything, he told him every small detail about the attacks from how they’re triggered and how they felt, to the therapist and the collection of medication and unhealthy coping mechanisms. Bambam was so into the conversation he didn’t realize that the ice cream in his hand was melting, until he suddenly felt the cold liquid on his chest.

When he looked down he saw a measurable chocolate stain on his pastel pink shirt and was soon cursing under his breath, taking in the panic he was previously describing. Mark seemed to notice and before Bambam could jump to wash it off he grabbed him by the wrists and tilted his face towards him to look into his eyes.

“Babe, calm down, it’s just a stain.” Mark said, running his fingers over Bambam’s knuckles.

“Just a stain? Mark, this ruined my designer shirt, and it seeped on my skin, and…” but Mark interrupted him.

“Bellamy, I know it might not seem like it to you, but it’s just a small stain,” Mark was now cupping the older boy’s face, while the latter was shooting glassy looks towards him and pecked his lips. “You’re beautiful, I hope you realize how perfect you really are; any simple act from you drives my senses insane,” he pecked him another time. “You’re so beautiful, both inside and out and nothing can ruin that for me.” he went in for a third peck before pointing at the stain. “This, it does not devalue you in any way at all, if anything it makes you more interesting. I’ve never seen anyone manage to rock a chocolate stain so good like you do, baby.”

Tears managed to stream down Bambam’s cheeks and Mark wiped them with his thumb that was gently brushing his face. “I want you to be comfortable, for this stain is just a futile existence and does not represent an inconstancy in your life. People make mistakes; some are significant and some are minor and harmless, it’s just the way life goes and we clumsies have to accept that.” Mark then added as he removed one arm to grab on the melted ice cream that managed to fall and then let it drop on his shirt too.

Bambam gasped at his act and smacked Mark on his side before taking the ice cream away. “Are you crazy?” he managed to say as he sniffled but Mark only let out his screechy laugh and then went on, sneaking a kiss.

“Come here.” Mark grabbed Bambam’s arms and got him up for a tight hug “We have to go before Jay comes back home. We wouldn’t want him to be hungry and alone.” he then said kissing Bambam’s forehead and leading him to the car.

Bambam did not wash the shirt that day or any day after that.

\---

_WEEK ONE:_

Mark did not see his boys for a whole week. First, because he had exams, and second, because he had promised Youngjae that he would spend movie night with him and Coco. They texted, though, and video chatted when Jackson was playing _Overwatch_ and Bambam was bored.

Jackson and Bambam got so shit-faced one night, they confessed to each other their intentions to stay more.

“Just one more week.” They promised, as they called Jaebum and made an excuse about wanting to spend some more time in L.A before they go to Chile and become Brian Robinson and Jason Long. Jaebum sounded hesitant when he told them that he would see what he can do, but he didn’t question their decision.

They convinced themselves that it was just a little more time with Mark, a little more time in sunny L.A, a little more time as normal people; as normal as a polygamy can get.

_WEEK TWO:_

They had Mark to sleep over a couple of times, but they did not do anything sexual. They had nice meals, watched some good movies, downed an expensive as hell bottle of red wine and made out till they couldn’t breathe. Mark looked spooked whenever they wanted to progress to another stage, so with his great self-control, Jackson held both himself and Bambam back.

They dropped Mark off at university a couple of times, and sat next to him in the afternoons as he wrote papers and studied for his exams.

That week, he asked them to model for a photoshoot he was planning. It was a black and white themed shoot about liberal lovers. They agreed to it, as long as their faces do not appear in any of the pictures. Mark was a little confused, but he agreed nonetheless.

They set up a makeshift studio in their bedroom, and Mark raked his brain for poses, while the boys helped. He took a [picture](http://www.fubiz.net/wp-content/uploads/2014/05/laurencedemaison-7.jpg) of Jackson behind the clouds of smoke he blew from his cigarette, and [another one](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/53/b4/94/53b494a44a4e77794d1edf31a0d663aa.jpg) as well because it looked cool as hell. He took a [picture](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/43/ba/37/43ba37b816bad0537d11bf3a53b2e758.jpg) of the couple together, with white cloth bags over their heads, and then [one](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/d0/b1/90/d0b190f249cebfb66d6e247dfbe64d99.jpg) of Bambam when he wasn’t expecting it, but Mark promised not to post it anywhere, he just wanted to keep it.

It was fun, in a very innocent way, and the two older boys got to see Mark in his comfort zone, and he looked so passionate and happy behind the camera. They sat next to him while he edited the pictures, and when they were busy just being, he sneaked a couple more pictures, not for his project, but just for himself.

That day was supposed to be the day they decide when to leave, but then Jackson waited until Mark was asleep between them till he kissed Bambam’s mouth and whispered, “Just one more week.”

_WEEK THREE:_

Jaebum started getting skeptical. He called them out for it, but both boys denied the reason of their stay.

“Is it because of that kid that answered the phone last time?” Jaebum asked, his pixelated face furrowing in confusion through the video chat.

Bambam and Jackson quickly hid their lies by laughing, but after around a decade of friendship, Jaebum could see through them.

“What the fuck are you guys doing?” He asked, looking at them with worried eyes.

“Don’t worry, Jae, we’re being careful.” Jackson answered.

“You’re letting him into your house.” Jaebum stated, and it really did sound ridiculous.

“We know, but he’s naïve, and innocent, and just…pure. He makes us happy, can’t we just be purely happy?” Bambam asked.

“Fuck yes, you can be,” Jaebum answered. “But after last time-”

“I’m not fucking talking about this.” Bambam abruptly stood up, knocking back the stool he was sitting on and storming out of the kitchen.

“You know that’s like our kryptonite.” Jackson smiled sadly at his best friend, and Jaebum sighed.

“I didn’t want to bring it up,” Jaebum said, rubbing his face. “But it was ugly, Jacks. I don’t want see him go through it again.”

“It’s not like last time.” Jackson said. “We know what we’re doing.”

“I hope to God that you do.” Jaebum scoffed.

“We do. You don’t have to worry about us too much,” Jackson said, then, “We’ll move on, but just-”

“Just one more week,” Jaebum interrupted. “I know.” Then he logged off.

_WEEK FOUR:_

Jackson and Bambam asked Mark to move in with them.

“It’s a big house, and you fill it.” They told him, and he teared up and said yes without hesitation.

When he told Youngjae about it, the Korean boy almost popped a vein, or an artery. He spent a whole day throwing insults at Mark, telling him how stupid and gullible he was being, adding “hyung” to each sentence to sound a little less harsh. Mark let him, he always did, because he knew that he was speaking out of concern.

While he was packing his things into boxes, Mark felt conflicted. He was putting away years of suffering on his own in boxes, and taking them into uncharted waters, a place so thrilling, he almost went there with nothing but the clothes on his back. Youngjae begged him not to end the lease on his apartment.

“You don’t have many expenses now,” Youngjae argued. “The boys are paying for almost everything. Please just use the money to keep paying rent. What if something happened? You’re gonna need a place to stay.”

Mark was gonna argue back, but he had always been an “just in case” kind of guy. So, he agreed, but didn’t tell the boys.

After the two friends loaded Mark’s suitcases and not-too-many boxes into April, Youngjae threw his hands around the American boy in a bone-crushing hug.

“I’m gonna miss you,” He mumbled, hiding his face in Mark’s shoulder because he was embarrassed. “Take care of yourself.”

“Don’t worry about me, Youngjae-ah. I’m a big boy, I’m gonna be alright,” Mark chuckled, hugging him back. “I’ll miss you too, and your food, and Coco my little baby, but movie nights are still on; we do share a child after all.”

Youngjae laughed at that, and then hesitantly let Mark go.

“See you around, hyung.” He smiled as Mark got into the car and waved him off.

Mark almost cried when Youngjae disappeared into the rearview mirror. Sure, Mark was just moving to a different neighborhood, but it felt like such a drastic change; he felt like he was uprooting, and it scared him.

Bambam and Jackson greeted him at the main door, grins taking up half their faces as they ran up to Mark and helped him with his suitcases and boxes.

It was a long day, moving Mark’s things into the house and unpacking them until he really felt like he belonged there. Around dinner time, Mark, Bambam and Jackson were sat on the table, exhausted. They managed to cook spaghetti and meatballs, a proud meal for Jackson and they all sat, appreciative of how it turned out. They mostly ate in silence, admiring each other’s features with small smirks and snickers coming out of their full mouths, and for some reason it turned into a competition. So, Jackson smirked as he eyed Bambam and took a fork full of spaghetti before downing it at one go and Bambam gave him the stinky eye.

Mark giggled at the altercation and resumed to shove four meatballs into his mouth. “Our boy’s talented.” Bambam joked and Jackson laughed, daring him to shove one more in, running into the kitchen to get some more. They really are kids regardless of their age, and they just seemed to sit on a big pile of money too.

Mark shoved the fifth meatball into his mouth with ease (because he was cheating), then the sixth, but struggled with the seventh. The three of them were a giggling mess while Mark tried to chew the meatballs in his mouth and after a short break of breath they all fell silent. “We should test those skills of yours in bed too, darling.” Bambam said smirking at the younger.

Mark was feeling especially daring, because of the changes his life was taking all at once, so a witty conversation was a piece of… meatball, like the meatball he was licking slowly while keeping his gaze sharp but lazy at the guy sitting across him. “I can take on whatever you demand of me, baby.”

Bambam laughed but quickly got up and spread his body over the table before taking Mark by the shirt and tugging him closer. “Big words for a small kid; you better put your words where you mouth is.” he said, breathing into Mark’s mouth and the younger’s breath hitched. Jackson sunk further into his seat enjoying the act that suddenly rolled in front of him.

Bambam shoved an unresponsive Mark further and cooed into his mouth again. “Hmmm? I think I heard nothing.” and Mark slightly gulped.

“Words are not the only things I’m willing to put in my mouth.” and this is where both the older boys laughed, Jackson getting up, interested in the turn of events.

He walked towards the two before glancing at Bambam and then at the lit candle. Bambam smirked, registering Jackson’s thoughts; at this point of their relationship, they can easily communicate with light glances.

“Are you sure about that, darling?” Bambam said, amused at Mark before the latter felt a hand tug on his hair and yank his head upwards.

“Tsk, you shouldn’t speak empty words, love.” Jackson said ticking his tongue, before lowering the candle for Mark to see from the corner of his eye, it was dangerously close to his side and he swore he felt an eyelash burn.

Despite that, Mark still spoke up, shooting his stare at Jackson who seemed to tower above him. “I mean what I speak.” He said, and Bambam took him by the mouth with his fingers. Mark sucked on them before Bambam ticked his tongue like Jackson did, and told him to open his mouth and Mark did what he was told.

Jackson then kneeled down between the boy, and Bambam worked his way on his lap straddling him and shoving his hands down, constricting his ability to move. “Suppose I drop wax into that chatty mouth of yours, would you still take it in for me, love?” Jackson whispered into Mark’s ear as he angled the candle beside his mouth, the younger’s gaze too fixated on the candle to respond. But then he nodded, opening his mouth more and sticking his tongue out, ready to take in the burn that will attack his tongue’s nerves.

Bambam and Jackson both looked at each other surprised at the responses they were receiving from the younger. “I think we have a keeper.” Jackson said, removing the candle from above Mark. “We gotta reward him for his loyalty, baby.” Bambam said, still on his lap before he went in to kiss Mark’s neck smiling at his skin before taking in a big whiff of its smell.

However, Jackson was a fucker and dropped a few surprising drops of melted wax onto the younger’s neck and Mark yelped from the sudden burning sensation. Jackson held him down on the chair. “But we gotta also punish him for his snarly replies.” Jackson whispered before biting out the cooled wax that was now fixed on Mark’s skin, leaving red marks. “We expect you to behave around here,” Jackson taunted. “Every action has its consequences in this house.” he continued on before gulping the wax and kissing Mark’s irritated skin.

It turned Mark on. It shouldn’t have because it was a head-on threat, but the youngest felt his pants get tighter.

“Get up, the both of you.” Jackson’s tone was authoritative and his voice was hoarse, and the two got up immediately with Bambam shooting audacious eyes at the man that dared spread his dominance in the room and especially on him. He quickly switched teams, siding with Mark that had yet to develop an attitude.

“And who gave you the honors?” Bambam said approaching Jackson but quickly received a slap from the other, and Mark took a step back surprised at the move. Bambam seemed unpaged since he turned to face Jackson with a smile, pushing his tongue on the side of his mouth and laughing. He then pushed Jackson back on the chimney behind him, the latter hitting his back on the edge of it and letting out a small gasp.

Mark was confused and a little bit anxious at the actions of the two but was soon gaping at the sight of the two making out, groping each other hard and letting out loud moans that soon mingled with Mark’s, making him go unnoticed from the two.

He was a panting and moaning mess, but then Bambam detached himself from Jackson, and walked out of the dining room, heading upstairs, and he beckoned the other two with one of his fingers. They followed like lost puppies, and once all three of them were inside the room, the door was closed and Mark was pushed against it, being kissed and bitten and he didn’t even care who was doing what to him. Then suddenly he was alone. The other two had moved towards the bed, lips connected, with Bambam’s legs around Jackson’s waist as the elder carried him and dropped him on the bed, not breaking the kiss. He walked towards them, and sat on the bed, eyes fixed on all the points they were connected at.

Mark gladly watched the couple make out. Their hands were roaming each other's bodies, tugging and scratching, and they were making extra lewd, unnecessary noises, and it all went straight to Mark's dick.

He took the opportunity that his boys were distracted to undress himself. He unbuttoned his shirt, eyes fixated on how Bambam's lips moved against Jackson's, a trail of saliva connected between them as they moved their heads back to stare at each other. When they noticed Mark's predatory eyes on them, they moved back from each other and moved towards him.

He saw it coming, but nothing had prepared him for what was to come next. Jackson made the first move, as usual, pulling Mark towards him by the hair, attacking his mouth and tasting him like a starved man. Mark kissed him back just as intensely, his teeth biting into Jackson's lower lip and tugging, eliciting a throaty moan from the elder, and Bambam who was now taking off Mark's shirt, nails scratching his skin ever so slightly.

Mark was pushed back into the fluffy pillows that mounted the king-sized bed, Jackson's hands working to unbutton his pants and pull them off his legs. Bambam reached into the bedside table and came back with a bottle of lube, and two condom packets. Mark was now only in his boxer briefs, looking delicious as sin, hair tousled and skin glowing, and it made Jackson's mouth water.

"Baby, can I suck him off?" Jackson asked, cutting to the chase.

"Fuck yes." Both Bambam and Mark said at the same time, eyes widening and bulges growing. Jackson's forwardness has an arousing effect on both boys, and he liked that.

"You like that, huh, my baby boys?" He asked, dragging his tongue over Mark's chest as his hand cupped Bambam's clothed crotch. Bambam bucked his hips forward, then fumbled with his belt to pull off his pants.

Soon enough, Bambam was fully naked, dick hard and glistening with precum, eyes wild and mouth impatient, latching onto any patch of skin in its wake; which happened to be Mark's chest.

As Bambam's tongue worked Mark's nipples, Jackson (who was still very clothed) took the time to work his teeth and tongue down Mark's body, leaving red marks over the expanse of his milky skin, focusing on his happy trail, and the inside of his thighs.

Mark was a quivering mess, hands lost and not knowing where to touch. His left hand settled in Bambam's hair, threading through it and tugging when Jackson's teeth grazed his skin a little too hard, and his right hand tried to touch his own dick, but Jackson swatted it away.

Jackson mouthed at Mark's clothed cock, licking a wet patch on the dark material of the boxers, then his teeth held the waistband and tugged the boxers down, inch by inch, until Mark's member sprung out, head throbbing red and leaking. Jackson licked his lips, hands rubbing up and down Mark's thighs, turning him on ever more.

"Are you ready for my mouth, baby boy?" Jackson mouthed against the base of Mark's dick.

Mark hummed, his right hand coming down to grip Jackson's neck, pushing his face forward.

"Someone's eager." Jackson snickered, one of his hands stroking Mark's balls.

"Fuck, Jay, j-just do it," Mark almost wailed, hands gripping both boys' hairs tighter. Bambam's mouth was relentless, and just as Jackson licked at the underside of Mark's shaft, then his pillowy lips closed against the head, Bambam kissed Mark's mouth, swallowing the moan that escaped.

Jackson sucked dick like a champion, Mark noticed. He swallowed Mark's dick whole, hallowing his cheeks and bobbing his head at the right pace, his tongue swirling against Mark's shaft. Mark was starting to sweat, moans escaping his mouth in waves, but Bambam muffled them with his tongue. Bambam then decided to leave Mark's mouth and focus on something else, like Jackson's back.

Now that Mark was unmuffled, he was loud again, moaning and groaning and bucking his hips, fucking himself back into Jackson's warm and wet mouth.

"Fuck I'm close." Mark breathed out, the knot in his stomach tightening as Jackson's hand found the base of his dick and worked up what his mouth couldn't swallow.

"Jay, don't stop." Mark groaned, and Jackson's teeth grazed his veiny shaft, then he was cumming, and Jackson swallowed the best he could, but Bambam's hungry stare held him back.

"Let me taste some." The black-haired boy said, then pulled Jackson into a kiss but it wasn't satisfying enough, so he pushed his face down to lick Mark's abdomen where some of the white substance had spilled.

"Fuck me, you taste so good." Bambam voiced out, going in to kiss Mark, making him taste himself.

"That can be arranged." Mark smirked, hands trailing down to cup Bambam's ass.

In the meanwhile, Jackson had gotten undressed, now standing in his full glory, watching the two boys kiss and touch.

Bambam looked at Jackson expectantly and Jackson hesitated, having an inner battle. No one has ever touched Bambam other than him. Ever. Giving Mark the honors was something he wasn't very keen on doing, but Bambam looked like he wanted it, and Mark's eyes were almost black with lust.

"You want to fuck my baby, Markiepoo?" Jackson asked, circling around the bed like a predator waiting to attack.

Mark nodded mutely, bottom lip between his teeth.

"Are you gonna treat him good? Make him cum and scream?" Jackson asked, looking at how Mark got hard again.

"I'll treat him real good." Mark said, voice sounding fucked out.

"Hmmm," Jackson hummed, flipping Bambam on his hands and knees and pulling him towards him. He kissed his spine, going all the way down to the curve of his ass, bringing one of his hands down to knead it. "Are you gonna take care of my baby, Mark?" Jackson asked, pulling Bambam's back against his chest, his arms snaking around his waist to hold him. It was almost romantic, how Jackson's hands handled Bambam with care, like he was made of porcelain.

"I promise." Mark nodded, crossing his heart. Jackson laughed at how adorable the kid was, kissing Bambam's throat and mumbling a few hushed "i love you"s into his ear.

"My baby is made of glass, Mark. For each bruise or scratch on his perfect skin, I'll see that you get punished, hmm?" Jackson mumbled against Bambam's skin, but his tone was low, almost bone-chilling. "This body is so important to me," Jackson's hands roamed Bambam's skin, caressing it slowly, lovingly. "Hurt it, and I'll hurt you." His threats kept coming, and it shouldn't have turned Bambam on as much as it did, but he loved how possessive Jackson was over him, so he basked in it, allowing Jackson to scare the kid a little.

"I would never." Mark said sincerely, and Jackson leaned down to give him a kiss.

"Would you let me fuck you into him?" He asked, lips moving erotically against Mark's.

Mark found himself nodding, and Jackson grinned, almost resembling a Cheshire cat. "You're such a good boy, Markie."

Bambam moaned, just by watching the other two interact, and Mark's head snapped towards him.

"I'll prep him for you," Jackson said. "Have him nice and ready."

"W-what should I do?" Mark asked, hesitant.

"Watch." Jackson simply answered, then he was on top of Bambam, pinning his arms above his head as he kissed him breathless. Mark laid back against the pillows; the view in front of him felt like heaven, better than any porn video he had ever seen.

As Jackson's right hand traveled down his body, Bambam instinctively spread his legs open. Jackson teased, he always did; he brought two of his fingers up to Mark's lips and coaxed them open.

"Would you do me the honors, baby boy?"

Mark eagerly took Jackson's hand in his, sucking on both fingers until saliva coated them thoroughly. He let them go with a lewd sound which made Jackson's dick react, but he controlled it, and without warning, entered one of his digits into Bambam's hole, making him suck in a breath at the sudden intrusion.

Jackson worked his first finger skillfully, and when Bambam relaxed a little, he put in the second. He moved them around, crooking and scissoring them, making Bambam's hips thrust upwards. When Bambam's hole seemed a little more loose, Jackson put in a third finger, un-slicked and raw, and it created a friction so sweet, it had Bambam gasping.

In no time, Jackson found the spot inside Bambam that made him see stars. He pushed his fingers into Bambam more, hitting his prostate and resulting in loud moans. Bambam's eyes were closed, head thrown back in ecstasy as he fucked himself down onto Jackson's fingers. Mark was watching everything with an open mouth, moaning when Bambam did and biting his lip a little too hard, he was sure he drew blood.

When Jackson deemed that Bambam was ready enough, he pulled his fingers out, then got off the bed and walked into the closet, coming back with a black cloth.

"You know what's gonna happen now, Mark?" He asked, crawling onto bed again, hovering over the youngest while the other mewled at the loss of contact, but he knew better than to rush things.

Mark silently shook his head and Jackson kissed his nose.

"Now baby's gonna prep you for me, because he knows how I like it," Jackson explained. "And you're gonna be blindfolded, because it just makes it more interesting, don't you think?”

Mark was in a daze, watching Bambam and Jackson eyeing him, then he nodded.

"Very good," Jackson mused, pulling Bambam's face closer to Mark until they were kissing. "My baby boys are gonna make daddy happy, aren't they?"

It was all rhetoric, because Jackson knew that both boys would be very willing to do anything to please him, but he liked hearing them hum in confirmation.

As the two boys made out, Jackson tied the blindfold over Mark's eyes, then retreated to sit back and watch Bambam prep Mark.

Bambam wasted no time in slicking up his fingers with lube and inserting one by one into Mark, whose senses were hypersensitive because of the blindfold. As he worked him open, Jackson admired how Mark's facial expressions changed and morphed from slight pain to pleasure.

After a while, Jackson got impatient. "Enough." He said, and Bambam instantly removed his fingers from Mark's hole. Jackson didn't take off Mark's blindfold, but instead, ordered the two boys into the right positions. Bambam laid down on the bed, and Jackson pulled Mark until he was between Bambam’s legs. Jackson took on the duty of rolling a condom onto him and one onto Mark's length, before he simultaneously slicked them both with enough lube.

"Nice and easy." He said as Mark blindly, with his hands, lined his dick with Bambam's hole. All three of them sucked in breaths as Mark pushed into Bambam, inch by inch until he bottomed out.

"Jesus christ, you're so fucking tight." Mark exclaimed, giving himself and Bambam the chance to adjust. Bambam felt odd; having a cock other than Jackson’s inside him felt off (not necessarily bad, but still off), and it took him a while to adjust to the size and girth of Mark's. When he was ready, Bambam told him to proceed, and Mark slowly pulled out till the tip, then thrusted back in with a snap of his hips, making Bambam scream out in pleasure. Mark repeated the same movement a few times until Jackson stopped him.

His skin crawled with anticipation as Jackson stood behind him, but then he felt the head of Jackson's cock hovering over his hole, but it only pushed a few inches in and Jackson stopped. Mark tried to be patient, he really did, but Bambam's walls were clenching around his length, and he needed to feel full, so in a hasty moment, he thrusted backwards, and sunk himself into Jackson's dick fully, pulling Bambam with him.

“Oh, God.” Mark whimpered, his fingers digging in Bambam’s hips.

Jackson hissed, and gave Mark no time to adjust before he pulled back then slammed back into Mark, consecutively making Mark slam into Bambam. All three boys groaned in unison yet again.

"Daddy sets the pace, Markie." Jackson taunted, pushing Mark down till his arms caged Bambam onto the mattress.

Jackson thrust in once more, hard and un-calculated, just pure animalistic, and it rolled off into both of the younger boys, making Mark groan and Bambam dig his heels into the mattress.

“Mark, oh my…fuck, Jay, go faster.” Bambam breathed out, sounding half comprehensible.

It took them a few tries, but then Jackson found the right pace at which he thrusted into Mark and then Mark into Bambam, creating the perfect dynamic. Relentlessly, Jackson fucked Mark into Bambam, and he got off on the lewd sounds that both boys were loudly making. He kept thrusting until he hit the spot that made Mark scream his name at the top of his lungs, then snap his hips forward to make Bambam's face contort in mind-numbing pleasure. Jackson zeroed in on that target, and in no time, Mark was yelling both their names (well, fake ones, and they tried not to cringe), his thrusts into Bambam getting sloppy as he warned them about his hovering climax, until it happened in a bone-chilling shudder that had Mark's thighs and arms trembling. Jackson kept fucking him anyway, still making Mark's dick slide in and out of Bambam, and through his haze, Mark managed to grab Bambam's abandoned cock and give it thorough strokes at the same rate which Jackson was still fucking into him. Bambam came second, naturally, his hips bucking and moans load enough to probably wake the neighbors they didn't have. His white load spilled over his stomach and into Mark's hand that tirelessly stroked him through his high.

Jackson gave Mark the chance to pull out of Bambam before he pulled his back against his chest, creating a new angle at which Jackson thrusted. Mark got hard again somehow, maybe it was because of Jackson's rugged breath in his ear, or because of the way that Bambam was mewling at them as they fucked, or maybe because of the darkness of his sight due to the blindfold that intensified all other senses, but soon enough, his cock was hard again. Jackson was a great love maker, knowing exactly where his hands should be, so as he felt himself tipping over the edge of ecstasy, his hand grabbed Mark's dick which was ridden of the used condom (thanks to Bambam's foreshadowing). Jackson came with a growl, his hand tugging at Mark's cock. Mark was already over-sensitive from the first two climaxes he had that night, so with a few flicks of Jackson's wrist and his throaty moans in his ear, Mark came for the third time.

Bambam lifted himself onto his knees, and moved towards where his boys were breathing hard, arms holding onto each other. He took off Mark’s blindfold and watched how his eyelashes were matted with sweat, sticking to his cheeks.

Jackson slowly pulled out of the youngest, tying off the condom and discarding it on the floor.

Mark looked wrecked, sweat covering his body, lube and cum running down his milky thighs, and if Jackson had no mercy, he would've taken him on another round.

Both older boys helped Mark under the sheets, and he curled himself into a little ball. Jackson laid down on his left, and Bambam took his rightful position as the koala on top of Jackson.

The eldest pulled Mark into his side and kissed both boys' heads, murmuring sweet nothings to them about how they made daddy happy. Both boys nodded, content with Jackson's words, and in no time, they all fell asleep in a mess of tangled limbs, basking in the afterglow that engulfed them (and the sweat and stickiness as well, but they didn't mind.)

\--

Mark couldn't count the stars, the little light objects failing to meet his sight as they shifted and turned frantically before his eyes. He felt a scream swell up and infect his throat, making his voice hoarse and silencing him mute. He coughed up liquid that he then spat out, blood dripping onto his shirt and on the front of his shoes, his notebook heavy in his grip as it fought to break free towards the sky. Before he could cough again, a harsh light struck his pupils and he shot up, awake.

"Markiepoo?" Bambam slowly whispered, afraid to startle the sweating kid, his skin shimmering from the bathroom light. Bambam wiped the little beads that decorated Mark’s forehead with his hand, before caressing it. "Bad dream huh?" And Mark nodded, so Bambam threw his arms open for the other to retreat to his safety and warmth.

"You're safe, darling, we're here for you."

 _“until you leave next week,”_ a voice echoed in Bambam's head but he ignored it, leaning to give Mark a long but gentle kiss on his head, caressing his hair and rocking him till his breath fell into a systematic rhythm. Bambam fell asleep soon after with Mark in his arms, drifting away as a last thought circulated in his head, _"you have to tell the kid"_.

Jackson, however, was a heavy sleeper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are sorry for the late update, but this is how it's gonna be. Because S started her exam period, and I'm still busy with family. Y'all wish my kid some luck, she isn't even studying well.  
> How absolutely fucking sexy is dominant!Jackson? We switched roles this chapter also, but S gave all the ideas while I wrote because her 'fingers wouldn't cooperate'.  
> THEY DO NOT HAVE AN ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP. Kinky af, but in no way abusive. They just like to push each other's buttons.  
> The song referenced is called Banana Pancakes by Jack Johnson. The hyperlink to the Youtube video is on his name in the chapter!  
> Okay so this week's announcements:  
> 1- We have mapped the story out, and decided that it is gonna be around 15 chapters, give or take.  
> 2- The week skipping was essential cause those details aren't important to the story line.  
> 3- We are currently working on a playlist for the story (it's basically Troye Sivan and Halsey haha) but we'll post it at the very very end.  
> 4- On a totally unrelated note, what happened with Jackson on Instagram this week was a bit unfair to him, but you know, we're gonna love him regardless of his chatty mouth.  
> 5- I bet you stopped reading by now, so I'm gonna shut up.


	11. xi. Lime Vodka

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When things go wrong, they go really, really, wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! Angst. Literally that's it. Just pure angst. Whatever warnings I write, you won't be ready for this.
> 
> It would be a good idea to listen to this when you're like halfway through the chapter.
> 
> [Drive by Halsey because the lyrics are head-on(sneek peek into my playlist yaaaas)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2oI-BsWbIg4)

Bambam woke up groggy; after him and Jackson had surprised Mark the day before with a black 2017 [BMW M2](http://buyersguide.caranddriver.com/media/assets/submodel/7831.jpg), Mark was reluctant to accept the gift (that looked exactly like it did in all those pictures he had liked on Instagram, and the boys knew that) but after the elders’ insistence, he accepted their thoughtful (and pricey!) gift. Mark loved April, but even he knew he should accept the fact that it was falling apart, failing to help him cross the little distance from his -new- house to his university.

That night, in short, involved a lot of alcohol and Mark showing them how overly “grateful” he is; they went at it all night, not even taking a break, which rendered the three boys physically exhausted. Bambam laid his head on the pillow beside the two boys who were bundled up together. He smiled at the sight despite the agonizing headache, and remembered how Mark, the night before, with all drunken seriousness, had announced that he came up with their nicknames.

“Bammie and Gaga,” Mark said, half slurring his words, and wobbling as he stood up. “Bammie because it sounds a little like Bellamy if you say it real fast, and Gaga because when Jay laughs, he reminds me of a cartoon character named Gaga.” The two elders thought he was being too cute, so they decided they’d just succumb to the stubborn kid.

Bambam turned around to grab his phone from the nightstand, wincing at the slight movement; he was too sore and he seemed to be bruised from the elbows down.

“What the hell did we do yesterday?” he whispered to himself, letting out a small chuckle.

The phone showed that it was the 17th, and Bambam tensed up, gulping heavily–two days before the Chile event they gave up on. He bit on his lips a bit too hard and grimaced when he noticed how there seemed to be a cut; he winced again as warm lips settled on his neck, but before he could turn around to see who it was, Mark spoke up, his voice hoarse and his warm breath (which smelled like lime vodka which they had religiously chugged down) fanned Bambam’s neck.  

“You look like a battered kid.” Mark joked as he kissed the bruise on Bambam’s neck again. Mark, being oblivious to Bambam’s past, did not know what made Bambam flinch, but those words had unknowingly worsened Bambam’s already sour mood.

It was a bit tense and awkward in the kitchen as the three ate breakfast, due to Bambam’s silence and obvious bad mood, but the other two didn’t press the matter, only eating and giving each other confused stares when Bambam was distracted staring at his bowl, swooshing the cereal back and forth.

The day was silent, with all three boys actively avoiding touching or speaking to each other unless they deemed it necessary. At around noon, Mark announced that he was meeting with Youngjae, and neither of the older boys said anything.

Mark had drunk texted Youngjae about his new car the day before, and Youngjae called him in the morning. Excited, Mark agreed to meet him up at his old apartment complex and take him on a cruise.

When the door shut behind Mark, Jackson went upstairs to speak to Bambam, but found that the latter was napping, so he disappeared downstairs, to distract himself. When afternoon came around, and after Jackson left the basement, he noticed that Bambam was dusting the living room (as a distraction and relief from what seemed to be a minor anxiety attack).

“Care to tell me why you’re acting like a grumpy grandpa today?” Jackson asked as he leaned against the wall.

“Nothing, it’s just that the Chile event was supposed to be in two days.” Bambam sighed as he continued to dust inside the expensive vase in his grip, admiring its sparkle as the light hit it.

“And? We cancelled on it, so why the sudden bad mood?” Jackson said, now crossing his arms, feeling a bit irritated by Bambam’s attitude about the matter.

“It’s just… Not like us, you know?” Bambam said looking at Jackson; the light from the sunset hit half of his face, and his platinum hair shimmered. Bambam revered it a bit before the other’s lips moved.

“I know it’s not, love, but that’s good! Don’t you see, Mark is good for us,” Jackson let a breath in before he continued. “Dare I say, we can finally have a home here.” he looked at Bambam with pleading eyes, but Bambam narrowed his eyes as he settled the vase down on the table.

“No.” Bambam simply said and Jackson clenched his fists.

“What do you mean no?” He replied gritting his teeth and glaring back at Bambam.

“No, Jackson, as in we can’t afford staying here and you know that.” Bambam then said, explaining the situation as he gestured with his arms to the house and even outside.

“You know what’s funny? You always say that,” Jackson said, letting out a bitter chuckle. “Jackson, we can never stay for more than a week, oh Jackson, I booked the flight, Jackson get up we need to leave, Jackson don’t leave the hotel room, Jackson, Jackson, Jackson,” He then said with a sarcastic, whiny voice. “It’s always Jackson this, Jackson that. Look at us now, huh? Don’t you see we’ve been here for how many weeks and **_nothing_** happened,” he huffed but then continued. “You made an exception for the kid, however, when it comes to me, you seem to hesitate in an instant.” He ran his fingers in his hair, frustrated, his tone coming out a bit hurt.

“Jacks-” Bambam wanted to argue, but was interrupted by a pissed Jackson.

“No, you shut up, just for once. Shut up and listen to what I have to say.” Bambam was taken aback by the rude turn in their discussion but continued, ignoring the other’s request.

“I don’t know what’s up with you, but-” before he could continue, Jackson was already shouting and Bambam seemed to only flinch at the other’s sudden outburst.

“FOR FUCK’S SAKE! JUST SHUT THAT BIG MOUTH OF YOURS AND LISTEN TO ME FOR ONCE IN YOUR MISERABLE LIFE _!”_ Jackson shouted but then lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. "Do not let me repeat myself again, I’m fed up with this whole arrangement of ours, Bambam, I’m sick of it.” Bambam was even more confused.

“What are you talking about?” Bambam bitterly chuckled as he slightly pushed at Jackson’s shoulder to leave the room; he felt suffocated inside there. “You don’t seem to be in your right mind right now, we’ll talk about this later.” he said as he tried to leave to the kitchen but was suddenly halted back by Jackson, who yanked him back, grabbing him by the wrist.

“No, it’s not going your way today, Bambam,” Jackson whispered again. “You’re so controlling. Ever thought about how one-sided this whole thing is?” He genuinely asked, but Bambam seemed confused, so he continued on. “Did it ever occur to you that I wanted to stay a little longer in Paris? Visit the Eiffel Tower, or have a normal picnic with you in Greece on the beach or even visit the tower of Pisa, you fucking knew how much I wanted to go to Italy when I was young.”

“I don’t control things, Jackson, I keep things under control, there’s a difference.” Bambam said coldly before freeing himself from Jackson’s grip, rubbing at the sensitive skin of his wrist.

“Under control?” Jackson asked confused.

“Yes, you tend to be messy and sloppy, Jackson.” Bambam snapped at him, bitter as his wrist showed signs of early bruising.

“And you’re uptight as fuck, so?” Jackson barked at him.

“So? So that’s why I always have to keep your activities at a minimum, so we wouldn’t get in trouble.” Bambam barked back.

“Trouble? I’m the one erasing all our tracks, cleaning up behind us, behind you.” Jackson scoffed, but Bambam seemed to disagree.

“Oh, boo hoo, you’re only a hacker, not a fucking computer engineer.” Bambam bit back.

“That only makes you a whore, because who the fuck gets all the money? Me! You just have them lust over you.” Jackson’s tongue moved before his mind did, and he only registered that after Bambam’s face fell, but there was no room for take backs.

“This discussion is over.” Bambam decided, starting to walk away.

Jackson’s blood seemed to boil, because before he knew it, he was spitting out words of venom. “No it’s not,” He blocked Bambam’s way. “You know, this whole relationship seems so one-sided, sometimes I wonder how you didn’t leave me to date yourself.” he said bitterly, giving Bambam a malicious stare.

Bambam only laughed at that statement. “Now that I think about it, maybe I should, it would be less of a hassle to me.” He said to Jackson but before he could realize it Jackson was out the room, he stood there for a while catching his breath before Jackson entered the room again and he tensed up.

Jackson had a mirror in his hand that he resumed to shove in Bambam’s chest. “There you go, you can date yourself, after all you were always a bit too narcissistic.” He laughed before continuing “I mean, you spend more time looking at your reflection than at me, so.”

Something in Bambam broke, and his throat swelled up, tears welling up in his eyes. He didn’t understand why he felt like he wanted to cry, since all he could feel was rage consuming him. He got enraged even more at that thought, and so, he simply just smashed the mirror in front of Jackson, close enough for the splatters of glass to hit him, piercing his skin.

They both jumped at the act, but Bambam’s rage was still burning his lungs so he carried on. “Fuck you, Jackson. You were always too much, and you wonder why we always have to babysit you.” Jackson flinched and removed the bits of glass from his skin, small wounds bleeding slightly.

“For a fucking controlling narcissist, I don’t think you should be as judgmental as you are being right now.” Jackson snapped at him.

Bambam’s head was thumping at this point and the blood rushed all the way to his cheeks too. “Judge you? Oh no, baby, I’m only stating facts, need I remind you that that’s the reason you were never adopted?”

That was it for Jackson, his heart felt tight in his chest and his breathing got heavy; he felt his hands grab at Bambam’s neck but he quickly let go, and Bambam coughed a bit. “That was real low of you, Kunpimook. No wonder your mother was so abusive towards you, seeming that you extremely piss people off to the point where they feel like the need to-” Jackson was shoved by Bambam, who was a crying mess, before he could finish his sentence.

“Get out! Now!” Bambam shoved Jackson again, as his tears fell faster, his screams coming out screechy, and Jackson had no problem doing so, because in no time, he was leaving the hallway and putting on his shirt, blood stamping it from his fresh and neglected wounds.

“Gladly.” he said. "Fuck this, anyway," he shouted before throwing the vase that was on the kitchen table. He grabbed his keys from the kitchen pot before grabbing it and smashing it on the floor, "Fuck this too," he opened the first drawer in the kitchen, "Fuck this, and this, and this too," he then said as he threw more objects around.

He was acting like a child, and he knew it, but it made him feel better so he kept at it, and that's when his vision hit the boxes they kept at the entrance of the living room, hidden under a cloth so Mark wouldn't get too curious.

Jackson quickly ripped open the first box, his keys clutched in his fist. He threw everything on the ground, the contents of the box (countless souvenirs and little objects) now haphazardly sprawled on the tile floor. "Fuck all of this too. Fuck you and fuck your stupid boxes and your stupid souvenirs." Bambam stood motionless at the chaos in front of him.

"Remember when you promised to get that closet for our precious souvenirs?" Jackson said, shooting his stare at Bambam who only looked at the splattered souvenirs, before kicking at the box. "Well fuck it as well, I don't need it anymore." then he heaved a breath before he walked out, the door slamming after him.

Bambam was a crying mess at that point, but for some reason, Jackson (who would usually swallow his pride, and bite his tongue) only felt rage- the frustration that built up all these years coming out all at once. Bambam followed Jackson to his car; he was being immature but he couldn’t let Jackson have the last word.

He kicked at Jackson’s car and Jackson clenched his hands on the steering wheel. “Why?” He screamed out but Jackson did not reply so he continued. “Why do you always argue about having a home?” he screamed again, punching the window, then ripping open the door, the force of it sending him to the ground.

Bambam stayed down, suddenly strained out of energy as he whimpered in his palms. “I thought I was your home, aren’t I enough?” he whispered to Jackson who had his head planted on the wheel.

“Nothing’s enough anymore, Bambam. We live out of boxes, for god’s sake. We never properly shop for groceries and we never seem to get used to the mattress. I’m tired and I’m exhausted of all the shifts, I’m done.” Jackson said with a low tone and Bambam stood up to face him.

“Why now? Why are you fighting over this now?” he exclaimed before wiping his tears.

“Because,” Jackson said before taking a deep breath in. “Because I think I love Mark, hell, _we_ love Mark, and you know it, Bambam. So, let’s stop beating around the bush, and for once, let me be selfish," Jackson's tears betrayed him, and started rolling down his cheeks. "I always follow you around. I always tend to your needs, because God knows, i love you more than myself, more than a home, more than life itself, but for how long, huh? For how long do we have to keep running? Why can't we just sit down for one fucking moment? Why can't I love you without being scared? I'm scared, Bambam. I'm scared whenever you set foot away from me, and it's eating me up. So now it's my turn to be selfish, it's my turn to call the shots," he ranted through his tears, then added, "With or without you."

He then closed the car door and drove off before Bambam could say anything else, leaving him gaping and in tears in the parking lot.

Bambam’s head was a mess and he swore white flashed before his eyes, rendering him motionless. So he just stood there, watching as Jackson’s car drove off.

Needless to say, Jackson cried in his car for what seemed like an hour. He found himself parked at the side of the road like a rom-com cliché, crying until his throat hurt and his head pounded with an impossible headache. He tried to catch his thoughts; he was not backing down from his stand, and he needed to feel some sense of control towards the situation and his life in general, so he made up his mind.

Bambam, who had been sitting at the foot of the living room couch, dry crying because his tears had ended by then, flinched out of his thoughts when the front door opened to reveal Jackson, eyes blood-shot and puffy. Neither of them said a word as Jackson stomped his way up the stairs to their bedroom, Bambam figured. He came down some time later, with a small suitcase in his hand and Bambam couldn’t meet his eyes. The younger only looked at the bag in his boyfriend’s hand then down to the floor, before his tears started again.

“I’m leaving this house, I thought I would get the chance to call it home, but it seems like I won’t be anytime soon, so I see no need to stay here anymore.” And the door slammed, echoing in the hollow house that was now a bit too cold for Bambam.

Bambam ran to the front door again, not to pick another fight, and maybe not even to stop Jackson.

“I hope any where’s home without me.” Bambam said, and Jackson heard it but didn’t dare to look back at him. As Jackson was putting his bag in the trunk, another black car parked next to his, and Mark quickly stepped out, looking between the two, noticing what Jackson was doing.

“What’s happening?” He asked, eyes wide and scared.

“I’m leaving.” Jackson simply said.

“What? Why?” Mark asked, then he heard Bambam whimper and walk back inside the house.

“Just stay with him.” Jackson said, kissing Mark’s forehead.

“Jay, what-” Mark was so confused, fear creeping into his chest.

“Just stay with him. He needs you.” Jackson repeated, getting in his car and driving off.

Mark ran inside once Jackson’s car disappeared, only to find Bambam crouching on the floor, head between his hands as he sobbed. Mark’s arms wrapped around him directly, and it only seemed to intensify Bambam’s crying. He carried him up to their bedroom, and kept him in his arms, rocking him back and forth until Bambam fell asleep, exhausted from all the crying.

After that, he sent Jackson a text, but he got no reply.

 --

Mark spent the whole day after trying to call and text Jackson but his advances were ignored. He tried to speak to Bambam, or even get him to eat something, but the once composed boy looked broken and in no state for conversations.

“Bammie?” Mark asked, entering the bedroom hesitantly to find Bambam curled in the middle of the bed, clutching a sweater (which looked like Jackson’s), and staring out of  the window. “Babe?” Mark tried again but Bambam didn’t move. It was around 8 at night, and Bambam had not moved all day.

“Can you go check on him?” Bambam finally said after a couple of minutes of silence, his voice sounding broken.

Mark climbed into bed and brushed Bambam’s hair with his fingers, dropping small kisses on his head. Some tears were still spilling out of Bambam’s eyes, so Mark kissed them away.

“Are you gonna be okay on your own?” Mark whispered to him, and the older boy only nodded.

“Okay, baby, I won’t be long,” Mark sighed, then, “I’ll try to get him home.”

Bambam’s lip quivered at the word; it was the root of the problem after all, but he only mumbled a small “okay”.

“Call me if you need anything, okay?” Mark kissed the older boy’s forehead and only got a wordless nod. “I love you.” He then whispered, taking his chance, but Bambam only cried harder. Mark understood the circumstances, so he did not push it. He only got out of bed, grabbed a jacket from the closet, and made his way downstairs.

Before he left, he made sure to enable the alarm system, just because he was worried about Bambam. Grabbing his keys, Mark made his way out into the car, but couldn’t even find it in himself to smile when it purred to life. He tried to call Jackson before he drove off, but Jackson didn’t pick up, so he tried again and again, always being sent to voicemail directly.

“Jay, come on, baby, just-just pick up and tell me where you are, okay? I’m alone, and I really want to make sure you’re okay.”

Then he drove off, going in the direction of downtown, where most hotels were. After 30 minutes of just driving around aimlessly, Mark’s phone finally, _finally_ , rang. It was Jackson, to his relief, so he picked up directly.

“Gaga, finally. Do you know how worried I was?” Mark said the moment he picked up.

“I’m sorry,” Jackson said, voice sounding strained and tired. “I’m okay,” he paused, then, “well, not so much, but I’m alive.”

“Where are you? I just want to see you.” Mark said, and Jackson sighed but then gave up and gave him the name of the hotel.

“Okay, I’ll be there in 10 minutes.” Then he hung up, sighing in relief.

It took him less than 10 minutes, so when Mark arrived, he parked the car and leaned against it, waiting for Jackson. When Jackson exited the building, in washed up black jeans and an oversized black hoodie, looking like he hasn’t slept or eaten, Mark waited for him with open arms. Jackson wrapped his arms around Mark’s waist, and buried his face in the crook of his neck, looking small and tiny as Mark pulled him more into his chest. They stayed like that for a little while, with Mark’s hands rubbing circles on Jackson’s back in a calming manner.

After, they got into the car, and Mark drove off, one of his hands intertwined with Jackson’s over his lap.

When Jackson noticed that Mark was driving in the direction of the house, he spoke up. “I don’t want to go back now.” He said, voice small, but Mark heard him.

“Gaga,” Mark tried, but Jackson’s hand tightened around his, and he seemed small against the seat of the car, looking like everything but the boy Mark knew. So, Mark’s sighed but gave in anyway, because how can he say no when Jackson looked this broken, dare he say. “Where do you want to go?”

Jackson thought about it for a second, but then he decided. “Let’s take this baby for a run,” He said, thinking about the racing tracks he once passed by as he was driving aimlessly around town. “It’ll get my mind off things.” Because hiding his feelings and avoiding them was the best solution.

“Whatever you want, baby.” Mark smiled softly at him, then kissed his hand.

On their way, after they had exited the city and were driving further south, Mark stopped for gasoline. Jackson paid for the gas while Mark decided to buy some snacks, and then as Jackson was filling the car, he noticed something, more like _someone_ , on the far-right end of the gas station. He was leaning against a black car, talking to a police officer, as he looked over some papers.

Jackson turned his head to the other side directly, pulling up his hood until he was sure it hid his face.

He pulled out his phone, that still had 3% battery in it, and opened the messaging app, sending Bambam a text, forgetting the fight, and his stand and pride.

“New York is close.”

His phone turned off before he could get a reply.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” He kept repeating, casting glances at the black-haired boy, who no longer looked like a boy, careful not to be spotted. Once the car was full, Jackson quickly hurried inside the convenience store, walking down the aisles, looking for Mark. He found him at the refrigerators, holding a basket filled to the brim with snacks, trying to choose a drink.

“Oh, babe, would you like iced tea or beer?” Mark asked, but Jackson only ripped the basket out of his hand, placing it on the floor, and tugging at his hand.

“We have to go.” Jackson hastily said, pulling Mark behind him as he walked.

“What the fuck, Jay? I just need to pay for the snacks.” Mark said, but Jackson kept walking.

“No time.” Jackson only said, pushing the door open while Mark tried to free his hand.

“Baby, just explain to me.” Mark stopped fighting, but he wanted to understand the sudden weird behavior.

As Jackson walked out of the door quickly, looking at the floor and nowhere else, his shoulder rammed into someone else, and a pair of black shoes entered his line of vision. Jackson sucked in a breath, hand tightening around Mark’s and it was almost painful. He said nothing, just side-stepped the other person and continued walking.

“Oh God, sir, I’m so sorry,” Mark said, but he was still being pulled. “We’re in a hurry.” He threw the excuse over his shoulder.

“Be careful.” The person said, and Jackson almost tripped on his feet.

_It really is him._

Jackson felt an extreme sense of anxiety as he opened the passenger door and ushered Mark inside. He got into the driver’s side, and pressed on the gas pedal so hard, as he made a very reckless turn back into the road. Mark yelped but said nothing, until Jackson slowed down after he took an exit.

“Are you gonna explain now?” He asked, looking at Jackson’s side profile, noticing how pale he is.

“Uhm, it’s just, I,” Jackson struggled, then said, “an ex.”

“Really? And it needed that much rushing?” Mark furrowed his eyebrows.

“Yeah, it did not end well. There were a lot of problems, and if he had seen me, we would’ve faced trouble.” Jackson said, and only then did Mark notice how absolutely spooked Jackson looked.

“Oh.” He only said, and then sat in silence till Jackson drove into a small way off the side of the main road. When the large sign of the racing tracks came into view, Jackson drove to the main gate. It was closed (even the overhead board said so in neon red) but Jackson stepped out of the car.

“Stay in the car.” Jackson only said as he walked up to where the security guard was. After a 5-minute conversation, and $400 later, the guard opened the gate and Jackson drove in with a smile on his face.

“We have 3 hours.” He happily informed Mark who just rolled his eyes but smiled anyway.

“What are we gonna do here, anyway?” Mark asked, then Jackson smirked at him, pressing the accelerator down till they were in the middle of the empty space, then he lifted the handbrakes, turning the steering wheel to the right, so the car swiveled to the left, and Mark let out a yelp, but then Jackson stopped the car.

“Drifting.” Jackson smiled, and Mark’s eyes lit up.

They spent the first 15 minutes with Jackson sending the car in circles, and the smell of burnt rubber invaded their senses, even through the closed windows. Mark’s high-pitched giggles filled the car as they continued driving up and down the tracks. He then continued to beg Jackson to teach him how to drift. Jackson was reluctant (because he did not have a death wish) but Mark’s pout and puppy-dog eyes beckoned him to comply.

It took them a while, but then they switched seats and Mark wholeheartedly pressed the accelerator, managing to land a drift on his first try.

When the car came to a stop after that, Mark’s grin was face-splitting, and Jackson chuckled, before he pulled him in for a kiss.

“You’re a fast learner.” Jackson hummed against Mark’s lips and the latter smiled.

“I have a good teacher,” Mark replied. “How did you learn to do it, though?”

“I had a friend back in New York who was into such stuff, so I asked him to teach me, and I picked it up. Haven’t done it in a while, though, so I’m glad we got the chance.” Jackson smiled at the other.

“Let’s do it again.” Mark said, then he rolled the windows down (to feel like those action movies, he said) and took off down the track.

By 11:30, Mark finally decided to stop, so he parked the car smack-dab in the middle of the place, just because he could.

“Why’re you stopping?” Jackson asked, furrowing his eyebrows. “We still have an hour.”

Mark turned off the car, then turned to look at Jackson. “Let’s christen the car.”

“What?” Jackson sputtered out, eyes wide.

“Have you ever had car sex, Gaga?” Mark asked, eyes dark as he unfastened his seatbelt and moved over the center counsel, onto Jackson’s lap.

Jackson was flustered, mainly because he was not expecting the sudden lust in Mark’s eyes, but also because the last time he had tried car sex, they ended up breaking a handle, so he told Mark just that.

“Well, once, but Bambam and I were too hasty so we broke a handle.” He managed to splutter out with Mark’s hands under his hoodie, fingers running over his nipples.

“Bambam?” Mark suddenly stopped and looked at Jackson with confusion, name ringing in his head.

Jackson cursed inwardly. Shit, he said Bambam. He did not give himself time to panic, however, instead, he pulled the oldest trick in the book.

“Who?” He asked, acting confused.

“You said Bambam.” Mark said.

“No I didn’t,” Jackson argued. “I said Bammie.”

“No, you-” Mark was gonna push it, but Jackson’s lips closed against his, interrupting him.

“Now you’re gonna overthink it, and keep talking about Bellamy and remind me why I am upset in the first place,” Jackson said. “Sad sex is not good sex, Markiepoo.”

That earned him a giggle from Mark, then a deep kiss. Mark decided to forget about it, because he saw how tired and distressed Jackson looked, and he wanted to make it better, because unlike the other boy, at least he’s letting him fix it, even if a little.

They made out for a while, tongue and teeth included, with shy touches above the waist; cold hands running against warm skin. When things started getting a little more heated, Jackson pushed the back of his seat down until he was lying on his back, brining Mark down with him. The backseat of the car was a tiny place, and they both decided that they’d rather stay where there was more room, no matter how confining it was. Mark’s hands worked to rid them of the clothes between them, while Jackson attacked his neck with kisses, and occasional bites.

Mark managed to undress himself first, haphazardly throwing his clothes into the driver’s seat and the backseat, and when he was stark naked, he started undressing Jackson who was still too distracted kissing and touching every inch of Mark’s skin. Jackson’s hoodie came off first, then he raised his hips to help Mark slide his pants off, consequently making his and Mark’s dicks rub against each other, eliciting a loud moan from both of them. When Jackson’s pants pooled against his ankles, Mark decided that it was enough, so he brought his mouth back to Jackson’s.

“Do you have lube?” Jackson asked, voice half gruff. Mark’s face fell because he had not thought about that. “It’s okay, we’ll use spit, it’ll hurt a little more, but it’ll work just fine.” He said, and Mark’s face flushed because, _wow_ , no one had ever said that to him before. Jackson giggled, but he was not worried.

“I have a condom though.” Mark sheepishly said, rummaging through his jeans’ pockets and producing a foil packet.

“Ah, yes, protection comes first,” Jackson said, and Mark giggled, hiding his face in Jackson’s shoulder. “Hey, come on, I’m dying here.” He then said, and Mark raised his head and looked at Jackson. He leaned in and kissed him, then when he pulled back, he grabbed hold of Jackson’s right hand, then stuck two fingers in his mouth, eyes fixated on Jackson, turning them both on even more.

“I love it when you do this, baby boy.” Jackson said, sitting up to kiss Mark’s shoulders.

Mark continued to coat Jackson’s fingers with saliva, moaning lowly as Jackson's hand brushed over his cock. Mark then pulled Jackson’s fingers out of his mouth with a pop, and hoisted himself up.

“That’s enough.” He said, and Jackson chuckled, adding “someone's impatient,” before he pulled Mark down for a kiss.

“You have to relax, okay? This is gonna hurt a little.” He warned and Mark nodded.

“You've done it with Bammie before, and he seemed to enjoy it, so how bad can it be?” Mark said, and Jackson kissed him more before he put one finger in without notice, and Mark groaned, arching his back at the sudden intrusion.

“Relax, baby boy,” Jackson beckoned him with butterfly kisses. “Relax.”

Mark took deep breaths, calming himself down as he sank back on Jackson’s finger.

Patiently, Jackson worked him open, adding a finger after the other until Mark was a shaking mess on top of him.

“Fuck, babe, come on, I'm ready.” Mark moaned, then Jackson pulled his fingers out. He carefully rolled the condom onto his length, spitting into his hand to slick up the rubber-covered cock.

“Deep breaths, okay?” Jackson instructed, and Mark nodded, eyes closed. Mark lifted himself up, hoisting himself using Jackson’s shoulders as support, then he lined himself up with Jackson's dick and slowly, with deep breaths, lowered himself onto it.

“Fuck.” Both boys groaned when Mark sunk, then they settled for a second to adjust.

“Whenever you're ready.” Jackson breathed out, and Mark opened his eyes, then lifted himself up and sank back again, his head knocking back half in pain, half in pleasure. He repeated the same action some more, but his pace was slow, and Jackson got impatient, so he hugged Mark to his chest, and in one swift motion, flipped their positions so Mark was now laying back on the seat.

Mark said nothing, only allowed Jackson to raise his legs and hook them over his shoulders. Jackson’s movements, although fast and relentless, had a certain softness to them that Mark could not explain.

Jackson's head was haywire, his thoughts running in different directions. On one hand, there was a moaning mess under him, a boy with the brightest smile and the softest hands, body pressed against his in a mess of sweat, but on the other hand, he had a boy at home, a home in a boy, a boy whom he loved before he loved himself; a boy who was currently sitting alone, half angry at him and half worried out of his mind because their past was coming back to haunt them.

So he kept fucking into Mark, swallowing his loud moans, kissing his skin, loving him softly; because he does, he loves him, and he loves Bambam, and it all crashed over him like riptides.

“I love you.” Jackson whispered into Mark’s ear, but he pulled back to see the utter shock on Mark’s face.

Mark couldn't believe his ears, so he just stared at Jackson, who had stopped moving, eyes wide and mouth parted in surprise.

“I love you too.” He finally spoke, hands reaching out to cup Jackson's face and pull him down for a kiss.

So, Jackson stopped fucking into Mark, instead he started making love to him, and the difference between the two, was not in the technical aspect, but in the way they looked at each other, the way their hands roamed each other’s skin, the way they kissed, and the way they finally came undone in each other's arms.

They laid down later, sweaty and messy, basking in the afterglow, with Mark’s head on Jackson's chest, and one of them finally brought up the elephant in the room.

“Will you please come home tonight? He needs you.” Mark said, fingers running circles on Jackson’s chest.

Jackson knew that this was no time for pride, because they were in a situation where every second and every move counted. So, he nodded, then they got dressed and drove off. Jackson passed by the hotel to check out and collect his car because he could not afford to leave any trace behind.

When they got to the house, at around 2am, they found Bambam in a ball, sleeping on the floor in the middle of the bedroom, dried tears on his face.

\--

Bambam did not move all while Mark was gone. He stayed curled up in the bed, eyeing his phone, and trying to distract himself from everything.

He fell asleep at some point, but the buzzing of his phone woke him up with a jolt.

Bambam eyed his buzzing phone, reluctant and hesitant to grab hold of it; he was in no mood to reply to anyone, but as soon as he noticed Jackson’s name on the screen, he shot up quickly. He knew it would be a pressing matter. They rarely fought, and when they did, neither of them backed down, so now that Jackson was, despite being hardheaded and unyielding, Bambam knew that something must be wrong.

He wiped his tears that were clouding his vision before he read the message.

“New York is close.” It read, and Bambam yet again felt white flash before him. He dropped the phone, no longer able to hold anything because of the violent tremble of his hands, and the sudden weakness that hit him.

He slid down to the floor, his back against the bed literally melting, his legs no longer able to support him, and he just stared at the phone that was lying face down on the floor next to him. He wanted to scream, to call Jackson and put him in his place, tell him that he told him so and that they should have left as soon as they were done.

_New York._

It repeated in his head like a mantra, pounding at his temples like a headache.

_He found us._

With a blocked nose, it was hard for Bambam to breathe, but the amount of oxygen was sufficient to keep him alive (due to the lack of movement), needless to say, he just couldn’t move, not even blink, and he stayed that way for a while, until the doorbell rang downstairs.

A shot of panic electrocuted Bambam’s whole body and he jolted up, racing to their closet to get a hold of the emergency key for the backdoor and basement; they could never be over prepared. It was still hard for him to breathe and he gasped for air on his way down to the kitchen where they had the alarm monitor and cameras activated, failing to keep quiet as he cursed at his panicked state.

 _That was it_ , he thought. He caught them and they were going to jail. He gripped his phone, ready to call Jaebum who was on speed dial, before he crawled into the kitchen weary of his shadow being caught from the windows.

Bambam noticed that the front gate was open, and it shouldn’t be, not unless Mark had forgotten to close it on his way out. Bambam turned on the camera feed, and it shot open to view the face of a foreign man. He was no one Bambam knew, so he held his breath and waited. Soon after, the man left a flyer on the door and walked away. After making sure that the coast was clear, Bambam walked to the door and picked up the flyer, engaging the alarm system again, making sure that the front gate was closed this time.

“Mandy’s Housekeeping Services.” The flyer read. It was just a salesman.

Frustrated at the sudden, very inconvenient scare, Bambam punched the kitchen counter and cried from the pain before screaming. He tried calling Jackson but his phone was off, then he tried calling Mark, but his phone, too, was off.

Bambam tried not to panic as he called Jaebum and told him about the situation, and about how Jackson wouldn’t pick up the phone. Jaebum said he was on his way to the airport to catch the first flight out.

Bambam was all alone in the huge house, pacing back and forth in the kitchen, clutching his phone as he called Jackson for the 15th time. He also tried Mark, but to no avail.

He was panicking and he knew it. He knew how his panic attacks felt like and was now upstairs in the bathroom, splashing water and engaging himself in the mirror with calming words after gulping 2 pills, trying to calm himself, but it wouldn’t work.

He cried until he his body felt dry, but the panic just wouldn’t settle, so he grabbed onto his last resort. He threw on the shirt before staring at his messed-up reflection once again. It was the shirt that he wore with Mark on the ice-cream date, somehow Mark’s words that day came jolting into his memory and soon enough it consumed his thoughts; his cheeks were rosy and his eyes were sore and before he knew it, he collapsed on the floor, the last of his sobs racking his body as his breath, slowly but surely stabilized, and then he was sleeping.

He woke up when he felt warm arms around him. He came face to face with a very worried Jackson, and without second thought, wrapped his arms around his neck, and they both knew, they just knew, that things are changing.

Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops?  
> Okay, wow I love angst.  
> This chapter is just the climax and then things are gonna go downhill so fast, wow, okay, get ready.  
> So, this whole chapter was written in one day because S had an exam that was postponed so we took the opportunity to express deep sadness through fucking things up. 
> 
> (Mark's car hyperlinked. Check it out!)
> 
> Thoughts on who that someone might be?


	12. xii. Black Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Going around in circles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! Mentions of guns and death? hang in there.

Bambam opened his heavy eyes, his thoughts clouded with confusion. He was wrapped up in heavy blankets and had a cold, wet cloth on his forehead. He felt a subtle movement on his right when he opened his mouth to sigh; a pitiful attempt to get rid of the pounding in his head.

“Baby, you’re awake.” a hoarse voice hinting to heavy sleep said. Bambam turned his head to face Jackson, who was rubbing his eyes furiously, as if clearing them of the sleep they yearned for, his platinum hair sticking everywhere.

“Jay.” Bambam heavily mouthed and Jackson quickly grabbed his hand and brushed it on his own cheek.

“Mark is at college, baby, it’s okay to call me Jackson,” he said as he trailed Bambam’s fragile and warm hand with his finger before kissing it softly. “He almost didn’t want to go, but I got him to leave; he wanted to stay until you woke up.”

Bambam whimpered at the heaviness in his temples, and Jackson cooed, using his free hand to massage them for him.

“Don’t do that again, Bambam, please. You gave us the scare of our lives. I almost died when I saw you on the floor.” The tone of Jackson’s voice was low and heavy as he took Bambam’s hand yet again to cup his own cheek and Bambam felt wet trails on it.

Bambam couldn’t say anything to the other; it wasn’t awkward for them to speak regardless of the fight that broke, but it’s just that words wouldn’t help fix the hurt that both of them felt.

“I love you.” Bambam muttered, nonetheless.

“I love you too.” Jackson replied quickly, sniffling, hugging the thin frame that laid helpless on the mattress. Shades of black consumed both of their visions as they lay side to side while holding hands tightly, almost too tight (Bambam felt his hand go numb, but it was better than the numbness he felt in his chest hours before).

-

They woke up to a low-toned but loud voice yelling at them to wake up.

“Yah! Bambam, you’re fine wake up! Jacks, get off your boyfriend before he breaks a rib, he’s already had enough!” Jaebum yelled and they both groaned, shifting in the bed. “Get up! Come on, you giant excuses, the boy needs to do his last checkup.” Jaebum said as he slapped the two on their foreheads before ushering to the nurse -one of his men- forward.

The nurse flashed a light into Bambam’s eyes to check his pupils’ dilation, then checked his blood pressure and temperature before deciding he was in a good condition; he then gave Jaebum a thumbs-up and that’s when Jaebum spoke up, dismissing the man.

“Good, great! Now both of you, get your asses down to the kitchen, we have matters to discuss.” Jaebum said, leaving the room to go downstairs. Bambam and Jackson briefly looked at each other before Jackson helped Bambam, who was still a bit dizzy, down.

Jaebum slid a glass of water in Bambam’s direction before leaning his elbows on the counter to eye both boys. Bambam took the glass in one hand and had the other brush Jackson’s, who quickly grabbed it and slid the other’s small frame closer his, hugging him from the back and planting a soft kiss on his exposed shoulder.

“So, the past has come to haunt you again. Or should I say, _hunt_ you again.” Jaebum said before rubbing his forehead. The boys rolled their eyes, but felt sick at the same time. (Jaebum was right, he was out to hunt them down.) Jackson felt most brave between the pair, so he spoke before Bambam could gulp the water.

“And whose fault is that? Didn’t we agree that you keep tabs on him? Why was I graced by his presence in a fucking gas station all the way in LA?” Jackson barked, frustrated, the lack of sleep and anxiousness getting into his head and his behavior. He knew that it was in no way Jaebum’s fault, but pointing fingers was easier.

“Hey now, let’s stay calm and not play the blame game. You both are, after all, still here in LA, after I have _specifically_ told you to up and go before something like this happens.” Jaebum said as he shifted his position, standing up straight. “Besides, I was too busy this while to do my check on the dude, because as you may or may not remember, I have a job, that's one, and two, I have more important matters to tend to, like keeping my little business and _you_ safe.” he continued, obviously referring to all the illegal(ish) acts he carries out for people in return of favors (and silence). Jaebum was a business man like that, and it kept the boys alive (and most importantly, out of jail- so far, at least). “Now that I did, however,” Jaebum said as he turned the laptop screen towards the two. “It seems like he was relocated to the LA police department a little less than 2 weeks ago. I’m not sure of the reason exactly but I have a few working on that.”

Bambam and Jackson nodded as they simultaneously sighed. “So, what now?” Jackson asked, sucking in a breath; he knew very well what was next, but he helplessly had little hope Jaebum would say something different.

“You pack your bags,” Jaebum authoritatively replied and Jackson’s heart sank. Bambam squeezed his hand with the little strength he had. “What you should’ve done weeks ago.” Jaebum then added bitterly, before dropping two passports in front of the boys.

“Bane Marshals and Jared O’Brian, scientists off to Siberia to conduct studies about the Amur leopard,” Jaebum said before crossing his arms, and Bambam scoffed; he was never good with low temperatures and he was certain Jaebum purposely did that to torture him. “The Chile identities got destroyed the moment you postponed for a third time because my connections could not hold onto them for more than a month.” Bambam scoffed, and Jaebum only gave him a smirk before he ushered them to upstairs to pack up.

“I need your current passports. It’s too dangerous to get you out using them because they’ve been in use for too long; we want no leads of you ever being here in case _he_ catches on to all of this. See you at the airport.” Jaebum yelled before closing the back door behind him, he was being cautious too; that kid was fucking relentless and the three of them knew it all too well.

-

The two packed what they deemed necessary, throwing things haphazardly into their suitcases. They were in a hurry, even Bambam didn’t mind the mess that stood in front of him. In a way, he was contemplating the bigger mess that was threatening his freedom.

When their suitcases were packed, the closet looked like it had not been touched. If Mark were to see it, he would not notice that some clothes were missing. That's what they wanted.

They were almost done, and Bambam was eyeing the pills he grabbed from the bathroom to drop in his suitcase before two arms wrapped around him. Bambam sighed and all Jackson could do was hum in his ear.

They were both devastated and tired, but the anxiousness worked them up enough energy to go by. “The plane is in three hours, Mark only comes back in one.” Bambam said and Jackson held him even tighter.

“We have to move fast then.” Jackson said with a strained voice into the crook of Bambam’s neck, and the latter nodded in agreement. They stood there, eyeing the suitcases for a good minute before Bambam turned around to face Jackson, both of them a bit teary eyed. He extended his hand to cup Jackson’s cheek, the other grabbing on his elbow and squeezing it.

“I’m sorry,” Bambam whispered. “I shouldn’t have said any of those things I said that night, and I never meant to control you. I need you, more than I know, and I take you for granted most of the time.”

Jackson quickly responded by throwing his hands on Bambam’s shoulders, pulling him into a hug. “No, don’t apologize, you did nothing wrong and you were just trying to keep us protected,” He said in protest, hugging the other. “You were right. Look at the mess we’re in now because I refused to leave. You’re always right, baby, and if anything, I’m the one who shouldn’t take you for granted for all the things you do for us, for me and for our lowly life.” Jackson added.

“Our life, yes.” Bambam said as he nuzzled his face into Jackson’s chest, taking in the scent he missed so much.

“Ours, and ours only,” Jackson reassured. “Let’s go now. We can’t bring him into this. We’ll fix everything later, we always do, baby, as long as we have each other, we’re the dream team.”

“I love you.” Bambam whispered as he grabbed onto Jackson’s shirt, his tears wetting the white shirt turning it sheer.

“I love you too,” Jackson kissed his temple. “I did yesterday, I do today, and I will till I can no longer breathe, I swear to you.” Jackson gulped.

They stood there in silence, but they knew they had to get going quick before Mark comes back home. “And I love him too.” Bambam quickly added before wiping his tears and closing his suitcase.

“I do too, baby.” Jackson whispered, closing the bedroom door behind him and his boyfriend as they walked out.

“Screw you, Park Jinyoung. We ran away once and that was my only mistake. Now we can't stop running.” Bambam bitterly said, feeling the sour taste the name left on his tongue.

“He won't catch us. Not now.” Jackson said, holding Bambam’s hand in his; neither of them said anything more, but they both felt it- the emptiness that settled between them, like something was missing (like _someone_ was missing), but they both had to square up when it's due, and right now, when their past was one step behind them, they had to do what was best for them, regardless of the collateral damage.

(They were both yet to discover that they were far too deep, to the point where they were incapable of ripping themselves apart from _the little more_ they both wanted for each other.)

\-----

_Los Angeles, July, 2017_

 

“Sir, we have a car with them.”

“Don't let them out of your sight. Traffic cameras, officers, a motherfucking chopper if you have to.”

“Yes, sir.”

 

**_Static_ **

_“Officer, report to dispatch.”_

_“Vehicle 04, 10-23, arrived at scene. Over.”_

_“Copy that. 10-12, stand by.”_

_“Copy that. Over and out.”_

**_Static_ **

_“10-101, what’s your status?”_

_“10-80, pursuit in progress, 2 persons. Over.”_

_“Copy that, provide identification if possible.”_

_“Negative. Suspects in dark clothing, moving in towards building. Over.”_

_“Copy that. Report progress.”_

_“Closing in on the suspects. Two males, Asian. Over.”_

_“Do they fit the description?”_

_“Positive. Requesting immediate backup. Suspects look armed. Over.”_

_“Backup on its way.”_

_“Copy that. Over and out.”_

**_Static_ **

“I want them alive? Understood? Give me that radio.”

**_Static_ **

“Officer, this is the reporting detective. Do not engage, I want them alive and unharmed. I repeat. Do not engage.”

_“Sir, 10-32, both males are armed.”_

“Wait for backup, do not engage. Copy?”

**_Silence_ **

“Officer?”

**_Silence_ **

_“10-101, what’s your status?”_

**_Static_ **

_“They pulled out their guns!”_

**_Silence_ **

**_Static_ **

_“Suspects engaging in heavy gunfire.”_  

**_Static_ **

**_Gunfire_ **

**_Silence_ **

“Fuck.”

**_Static_ **

_“Man down! I repeat. Man down! 10-52 at 276 23_ _ rd _ _St.”_

_“Ambulance on its way. Report status.”_

_“One suspect DOA. 10-26, detaining other subject. Over.”_

_“Copy that.”_

**_Static_ **

 

“I said I want them alive, goddamn it!”

“Detective, they engaged in heavy gunfire. There was nothing our officers could've done.”

“Are you sure it was them?”

“Yes, sir. Both male, Asian, late 20s, they were leaving the targeted house.”

“Bring the other one in for investigation.”

“Yes, sir.”

 

**_Static_ **

_“Officer, report to dispatch. 10-101, what's your status?”_

_“10-106, bringing suspect in for investigation. Over and out.”_

**_Radio off_ **

\--

“Detective?” A voice echoed in the empty room. “Detective Park?” It repeated, louder this time, snapping the man out of his reverie.

“Yes?” Jinyoung asked, looking at the police officer standing in the doorway of his dark office. It was one of the officers on his team, but Jinyoung had not yet memorized their names.

“Sir,” the officer said, then noticed the mess littering the detective’s desk. He ignored it, then said, “The suspect is in the investigation room. He wouldn't say anything without a lawyer.”

Jinyoung sighed, standing up from his desk and struggling to keep on his feet; that's what 42 hours of no sleep and 10 cups of black coffee instead of food do to a person. He’d been working on the case religiously, carrying it with him from New York to his new job in Los Angeles.

“We'll see about that.” Jinyoung said, and walked towards the interrogation room, officer hot on his trail.

“Detective, this is the younger of the two. He hasn't said anything yet, he probably won't unless a lawyer is present. We have contacted the DA’s office. They're sending in a defense attorney right now.” A junior investigator, Espinoza, said, handing Jinyoung the case file as she lead him into the dark room behind the two-sided mirror.

Jinyoung took a look through the glass, eyes fixated on the man on the other side. The black-haired man looked like he was ready to tear through the walls. Jinyoung smirked, tucking the case file under his arm as he opened the door and stepped into the barely lit room, the man’s eyes snapping towards him.

“Finally did it, huh?” Jinyoung said, circling the table once, like a wild animal, then he slapped the file down on the metal table, coming face to face with the man in front of him. “You thought you could up and leave, didn’t you?”

“You let them kill him.” The man said, voice low and menacing.

Jinyoung’s face stayed stone-cold. “There was nothing I could do.”

“Bullshit,” the man spat, glaring at the detective. “You were calling the shots.”

“You pulled your guns first.” Jinyoung said, but the man clamped his mouth shut, slumping back in his chair.

“I want a lawyer.” He said. 

“Do you know how long I’ve been going after you?” Jinyoung’s eyes refused to move from the man’s face, and the other was up for a staring contest, if it came down to it. “I followed you all the way here from New York. For months, I've been running in circles trying to catch you, until _finally_ , you slip up. One mistake, just one small careless act, and you fell right into my radar.” Jinyoung let out a low laugh, relief washing over him as the man’s face darkened.

“It's not like you to be sloppy. How come you let your guard down?” The detective asked, but the other man did not answer, however, just kept staring at him. “Where's the money?”

No answer, and Jinyoung expected that.

“There's no way out now. Tell me what I need to know and I _might_ get you a deal. How about 15 years? Sounds better than a life sentence, don't you think?”

Silence.

“Possession of unlicensed guns, scamming, identity thefts, assault of a police officer,” Jinyoung listed, opening the file and spreading papers and pictures everywhere. “We have all the evidence we need to lock you up, I don't think you're at any advantage here.”

“I want a lawyer.”

“Lawyer or not, it won't make much of a difference. I see you tell me what I need to know and save us both the trouble.”

“I want a lawyer.”

“Where's the money?”

“I want a lawyer.”

“It's just a matter of time.”

“I want a lawyer.”

“Your brother is dead, Mr. Han. You have nothing left to fight for.” Jinyoung kept his cold exterior, but on the inside, he was burning. The man facing him was a criminal, an outlaw, and it irked Jinyoung; sure, that was his job- bringing such people down put food on his table and a roof above his head, but every time he comes face to face with such people, his stomach would churn, reminding him of why he wanted to become a policeman in the first place.

Before either of the two men in the stuffy interrogation room could speak any further, a knock resounded on the wooden door, and a short man with a round face walked in.

“Detective Park, I'm Fred Kloss, the defense attorney by the DA’s office. I would like to have a word with my client.”

Jinyoung sighed, but collected his file and left the room with a last, menacing glare at the black-haired man handcuffed to the table.

If there was anything that annoyed Jinyoung more than crooks, it was headstrong crooks. It took them 2 hours and 37 minutes to get Gregory Han to confess to his crimes: identity theft, heists, bank robbery, intent of murder, assault against police officers, and about 12 other petty crimes that he and his brother had performed over the span of 5 years. He spoke, eyes downcast, defeated, and he informed the police of every little detail they wanted to know, signing a 15-year prison sentence deal.

“Gregory Han, you are under arrest for…” Jinyoung couldn't help but smile as the man was taken away, handcuffed, because _finally,_ he had caught him.

It was 4am by the time Jinyoung entered his apartment. He carried himself lazily to the bedroom, eyes starting to close on their own. He dropped onto the bed after he had lazily put himself in his pajama pants, and crawled under the covers next to the warm body that took up less than half the space.

“Honey? You're home.” A sweet voice coated with sleep spoke up, and a head rested on Jinyoung’s shoulder, warm arms circling his midriff.

Jinyoung only kissed his wife’s head, out of habit, really, and not affection. He loved her, he really did, but not in that way, not in the way he loved –

“Did Hailie give you any trouble?” He whispered and his wife hummed.

“Not too much. She put up a fight before bedtime because she wanted to see daddy, but I finally got her to sleep after she exhausted herself.” Amy, Jinyoung’s wife of three years, said, kissing his chest.

“I missed her these two days. I haven't been able to even call her.” Jinyoung thought about his two-year-old daughter sleeping two doors down, and he felt a wave of guilt hit him.

“It's okay. We know you've been busy. With the move and the new police department. It's taking a toll on all of us. But it'll be okay.” His wife said, yawning at the end.

“Go to sleep, darling.” Jinyoung said, and then he rolled onto his side, his back to his wife who did not think much into the action.

“Goodnight, honey. I love you.”

He never said it back.

\---

"But, ma'am, I don't understand why we should take him. It's a federal case." Jinyoung said as he sat facing his boss, two days after his last case was closed.

"Detective Park," his boss, a woman in her early 60s spoke up, "Can I call you Jinyoung?" She then asked before she continued when Jinyoung only nodded. "Jinyoung, Kim Yugyeom has a case file in this PD; we have been trying to catch something on him for the past year. Now that he has fallen into our hands, we are gonna take everything from him before we hand him over to the feds. He committed felony in this town, and it's under our jurisdiction."

Jinyoung only sighed, not wanting to take another case over the one he already had open- but he was new, and he did not want to leave a bad impression on his new boss, so he nodded and asked for the case file.

He got updated by Espinoza who had been working on the case with the detective who was there before Jinyoung. She told him details that he did not find in the case file he had been studying all day.

The case was about Kim Yugyeom, a Korean business man who had been laundering money and buying weapons off the black market for so long. He was involved in too many scandals: sex scandals, drug dealing, smuggling, etc. He was caught mid drug deal and brought in to the police department before the FBI could get to him. The deal taking place on LA grounds gave the PD the authority to question him first.

By nightfall, Espinoza had finished questioning the suspect, because they decided that she was the most fitting to get the information they needed out of him.

Jinyoung entered the interrogation room 10 minutes after Espinoza had exited and showed him the updated case file. She had left him one detail to ask about, and he gave her a playful glare when she said that she wanted to "go easy on the new guy".

He eyed the suspect cautiously, taking in his appearance and his inability to stay still.

"Mr. Kim, you have a shameful record, if I must say. Didn't you hear that offshore accounts are an old fad?" Jinyoung looked at yet another man in front of him. A rich looking man-baby with a bowl cut. Jinyoung rolled his eyes at the man's glare.

"Listen, man. I already confessed to everything, what else do you want?" The man said.

Jinyoung sighed. "Mr. Kim, you confessed to everything we already accused you of, but smuggling laundered money into offshore accounts is a whole different offense, I mean, 20 million dollars is big money, Kris Young, don't you think?"

The Korean man slumped into his seat, his face paling noticeably.

"That's not my point, anyway, there's only one thing that caught my interest about that account," Jinyoung said, pulling a chair and sitting down facing the other man. "Money kept entering it for 4 years, but nothing came out, until," Jinyoung opened the file and took out a paper. "Until April 14th, when $300,000 were deducted all at once."

The man let out a sad chuckle, shaking his head.

"What did you do with the money?" Jinyoung asked, and patiently waited for the answer.

For the 100th time in the hour, Kim Yugyeom sighed, head pounding. It was over, it was all over, and there was nothing he should hide anymore- not that it would make a difference anyway, he was going to jail for a long, long time.

"It was stolen from me." He finally said, looking at the detective in front of him

Jinyoung rolled his eyes. "What an excuse..."

"I'm not lying. I was scammed, and they took the money from my account." Yugyeom said, glaring at Jinyoung.

"Who are they?" Jinyoung asked, playing along although he halfway did not believe him. "A pretty woman in a tight dress and her sidekick?"

"Well, it was a very pretty man. Such an exotic little thing, had me riled up and drunk before I could know what hit me," Yugyeom said and Jinyoung raised his eyebrows in surprise. "It was only one guy that was in direct contact with me; Boonè Richards, he said his name was. Though I'm pretty sure it's not his real name."

"Is there any evidence for me to believe it?" Jinyoung asked, irked by the familiar story.

“I have nothing left to lose, detective. My wife left me, my business was handed to someone out of the family, and now I’m in handcuffs,” Yugyeom said, raising his hands to emphasize his point. “It all started after that man did what he did to me. I want to see him go down just as the next guy, and I have no reason to lie.”

“Why wait for now to report it?” Jinyoung asked.

“I had a lot at stake. Now I don’t.” Yugyeom replied.

“So, you just let it sit? $300,000 gone, and you let it go?” Jinyoung crossed his arms over his chest as he frowned in confusion.

Yugyeom looked dejected. "I tried to find him, but he erased his tracks, or whoever his accomplice was erased his tracks. I hired a private investigator to track him down, but it's like he's a ghost. No surveillance footage, no credit card records, no bank wires, no phone records, nothing. Even my money disappeared into thin air. The only trace we had of him is that he took a plane to Los Angeles. That's why I came here for the deal instead of stay in Chicago, to find him, demand back my money and maybe a little more. But as you see, I'm in a bit of a pickle right now."

Jinyoung's head rang with the information. Of course, he thought. Of course. It must be them.

"Do you remember how he looked like?"

"How can I forget someone like that? Such beauty only graces a person once in a lifetime." Yugyeom said with a dreamy expression.

"You're so poetic for a guy in handcuffs." Jinyoung scoffed and the other man shrugged.

"What can I say? I like to indulge myself in the beautiful things in life."

Jinyoung rolled his eyes, then, "I'm gonna call the sketcher. You're gonna describe to her the Boonè man in details. Then I'll let the feds rid you of me."

As he walked towards the door, Jinyoung heard Yugyeom throw in one last comment.

"A blessing."

"What did you say?"

"Boonè. It means blessing." And the light in the man's face faded into a sad smile, eyes dark.

Jinyoung thought back to the sweet eyes and all the edges he once knew. "I'm sure he was." Then he left the room to the echo of Yugyeom's pained laugh.

\--

"Sir, this is the finished sketch. It didn't match anything in the database." Espinoza said, handing Jinyoung a white paper.

He took a deep breath and willed himself to look at the drawing, and there, in front of his own two eyes, was a rough sketch of the man from his past.

It was a little off, small details that Jinyoung was sure Yugyeom missed but he wouldn't, but it was him; it was Bambam, and Jinyoung felt faint.

"Sir, are you okay?" Espinoza asked, her hand on Jinyoung's arm.

"Yes," he said, then, "Are you sure it didn't match anyone in the database?"

Espinoza nodded. "We ran it twice. Either this person does not exist, or he's really good at hiding."

Jinyoung sighed. "Alright. Contact the bureau, and get the papers done. Don't let them take him before I oversee everything. I'll be in my office." Then with the sketch clutched in his fist, he walked back to his office, closed the doors, shut the blinds, and fell in his seat, feeling the traces of a migraine drumming in his head.

He stared at the drawing a little more. He felt his heart pound against his ribcage. He couldn't believe it. He'd been running in circles, chasing his tail all those years, until a strike of luck lead him one step closer to the people he's been pursuing for 8 years.

Jinyoung stood up and pulled a box from the closet, settling it on his desk. He sat back in his chair, staring at the black scribbles on the lid.

_Case X: Bonnie and Clyde_

Jinyoung took a deep breath before he pulled open the lid and took out the files inside- although they weren't many, they were all the scrapes of evidence he managed to collect about Bambam and Jackson over the span of 7 years.

The oldest file was dated December 2009, and the most recent was dated September 2015, when one person filed a complaint in San Diego about being scammed but it never went through because he had no evidence; a friend of Jinyoung's contacted him and told him about it because he had heard Jinyoung speak about that "Bonnie and Clyde" case, as he had named it, multiple times. It did Jinyoung no good, except fuel his desire to seek vengeance for the grudge he did not want to let go.

Jinyoung took an empty folder from his desk drawer and scribbled on it _July 2017_ before he placed the sketch in it and put it in the box with the others. He filled a case document about Yugyeom's confessions, and put it in the folder as well, hoping that someday it would be useful to him.

A knock came from his door, and Espinoza entered, informing him that the feds were there to take Yugyeom.

Jinyoung stood before Kim Yugyeom and all he wanted to do was hug him, but that was unprofessional, so he asked him if there was anything he would like to confess about before the FBI took him over, but all Yugyeom said, before a federal agent in a black suit handcuffed him was, "If you do catch him, tell him I say hi." And that was the last time Jinyoung heard about Kim Yugyeom.

"Detective Park," a police officer ran up to Jinyoung as he was walking back to his office. "There has been a break-in at the Black's place. The safe was cracked open but the only thing taken was some documents, not money. It might be related to the Henderson case."

"Let's go." Jinyoung said, picking up his badge and gun from his office before him and Espinoza took a police car to the scene.

An hour later, Espinoza stopped at the side of a gas station to speak to an eyewitness who worked there. As she was speaking to the teenager, Jinyoung stood next to the car as the officer who responded to the 911 call showed him some photocopies of the surveillance footage from the break-in.

"The face is unidentifiable. Did the forensics department find any other evidence?" Jinyoung asked, rubbing his temples.

"Nothing certain yet. They found some footprints in the backyard, but nothing else. We're gonna have to wait for the final report." The officer informed him.

"Okay, I need a copy of these and the report of the questioning. Inform me of any new updates as soon as they come in." Jinyoung said, and the officer nodded before he left.

Espinoza was taking long, so Jinyoung decided to walk into the convenience store to look for her. As he was about to reach out to open the door, it flew open, a guy clad in black walked out, pulling behind him a skinny looking boy by the hand.

"Baby, just explain to me." The skinny boy said, but the other guy did not say a word, just kept walking, head down, and rammed his shoulder right into Jinyoung who was still standing still.

The force of the impact almost sent Jinyoung off his feet, but he managed to keep himself still. The guy said nothing, only side-stepped Jinyoung and kept walking, pulling the other boy along.

"Oh God, sir, I'm so sorry," the skinny boy apologized frantically since his boyfriend apparently did not want to. "We're in a hurry."

Jinyoung frowned, but shook his head at the couple and said, "Be careful." before he turned and walked into the store, just in time to miss how the guy in the black hoodie almost tripped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so like, it was just to rile you up.  
> Sorry lol  
> The police/dispatch conversation was purely fake and a product of our very wide imagination (and all those cop shows we have seen) Also, how detective Jinyoung acts and speaks, are derived from hours of watching series.  
> All the 10-codes are from [here](https://copradar.com/tencodes/mgeneral.html) . Hope they didn't cause confusion!
> 
> Cat's out of the box- well, not entirely, but all will be clear next chapter!
> 
> Expect Chapter 13 soon (hopefully), and we'll see when the rest will come by.  
> 3 MORE CHAPTERS TO GO! DO YOU HEAR US SCREAMING? DO YOU? YOU DON'T? WELL, WE ARE!
> 
> P.S. Eid Mubarak to all our Muslim readers! (We know it's not Eid yet but better early than late) Although we doubt any Muslim readers are reading such a story in Ramadan, but anyway haha (Lilo, you don't count)


	13. xiii. Chocolate Chip Cookies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One picture was all it took

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! ANGST and like, it's going down.

_“Welcome to LAX: Los Angeles International Airport.”_

The sound of the woman’s voice rang in both Jackson’s and Bambam’s ears in multiple languages. They shifted uncomfortably in the checking line, Jackson wiping the sweat off his palm into his jeans and Bambam adjusting his bag on his shoulder. They both avoided each other’s eyes and struggled not to rip the security line and run back home.

Both their phones were off because Mark had left numerous voice messages and texts asking them where they are and if Bellamy’s okay.

They huffed and puffed in the waiting line, a kid beside them staring shamelessly at their face masks, remarking to his father how they looked like the villains in the cartoon he watches and for that, his dad yanked him aside.

“If I ever have baby fever, stop me from adopting one.” Jackson whispered into Bambam’s ear. “We’d be horrible dads anyway.”

Bambam chuckled, looking at Jackson, the corner of his eyes wrinkling, hinting to the smile that’s hidden behind the mask. They couldn’t risk anything any longer, they had to be extra cautious even to the extent of wearing hats, face masks and even considering wigs (which they contemplated but decided against since they made Jackson’s head itch.)

“We kept Mark alive, he practically acts like a giant kid, so that counts.” Jackson added, laughing, and Bambam shoved him a bit making him hit the luggage of the 50something-year-old woman behind them. Both of them turned to give her apologetic looks to which she kindly accepted with a nod and a subtle smile.

“I think we did a good job with our Markiepoo, he’ll appreciate the house we’ve left for him.” Bambam added in a low tone, staring at the little screen behind announcing their flight was about to start boarding. Bambam and Jackson made sure to leave both the cars and house in Mark’s name, not only was it a move to delete any trace of Jonah and Bellamy, but also a sort of an apology for Mark, as if anything would make up for their departure.

“He’ll fill it well.” Jackson replied quickly lowering his head, and shuffling the sole of his shoe. They stepped further in the checking line, Bambam holding Jackson’s hand tight, they were next after the kid’s family.

“Bambam.” Jackson whispered through the various voices that spoke beside them but Bambam picked it up easily turning to face the sad eyes of his lover. Neither of them said anything, Bambam stared at Jackson and Jackson stared back before the lady at the counter ushered them to step forward.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, I think we’re at the wrong checking line.” Bambam spoke before the other could move. Jackson quickly snapped his head to the younger beside him but Bambam started to move right away, swiveling in between the crowd in line before Jackson could ask any questions.

Bambam dragged a motionless Jackson into the nearest bathroom, checking if it’s empty. When he was sure that it was, he spoke up. “I’m tired of this too.”

Jackson took a few minutes to comprehend the situation before opening his mouth, letting out a low murmur. “H-how’d you know?”

“I can read your face, baby, and I’m tired of running too. Y-you were right the other time. We need to stop running. Mark is home now.” Bambam cupped Jackson’s face that was now glimmering with a bit of hope. “Jaebum’s driver is still outside, he won’t leave until the plane boards, so we have to move from the back.” Bambam added, taking his bag into a tighter grip.

“Jaebum will have us killed.” Jackson then said, practically agreeing to the plan, all while splashing cold water refreshing his wearied features.

“We’ll explain this to Jaebum later, but, baby, I can’t do this.” Bambam said, handing him a paper towel. “I can’t do this to Mark, to us either.” he added.

“We really do love Mark, don’t we? Fuck, he has us on a leash.” Jackson chuckled. “I can’t leave without him, I can’t leave knowing I’ll be a thousand miles away from our only chance at a normal life. He domesticated a house we both failed to adjust to before him, he gave purpose to our lowly occupation, and most importantly, he brought us even closer together.” Jackson said, and Bambam took his arms into his chest and Jackson held on his shirt a bit too tight.

“We have to go back, Bambam, we have to. I-I can’t hurt him like this, hurt myself too, I know you can’t either. The warmth of his skin, his canine teeth and screechy laugh and his stupid banana pancakes and love for vanilla. I’ll just miss them too much.”

Bambam kissed Jackson’s hands before telling him to grab his bag and change his clothes. Their flight was in an hour, enough time for the two to plan their ‘grand’ escape from Jaebum’s man and back to their familiarized house. They sat in a nearby café in the waiting area, right at a crowded corner where they would be hard to spot, munching on chocolate chip cookies and bitter coffee.

They agreed that they would just wait out until the plane takes off, since that’s when the driver would leave. It’s the safest option considering Jaebum’s men are highly trained and alert. They then would call a taxi from a stranger’s phone at the airport or any pay phone nearby by to take them home, as simple as that in a few hours they’ll resume a life they build around Mark.

They agreed to dye their hair after they’re back and intensify security around both their house and cars, they’ll keep going out at a minimum and will lay low for as much as they can, and that’s well, until Jaebum hangs their asses.

They were too helplessly in love and would take whatever consequences there were to their stupid lovesick decisions, but there was just no way they were leaving Mark behind. They did have times where they wanted to tell Mark all about the true reason they were in LA; they even had plans to take him with them to Siberia, but that would only mean stopping Mark from accomplishing his dreams on their selfish behalf, or Mark not accepting their truth, which scared them the most so they kept on lying, pushing themselves more and more into a web of lies that now they had no escape from.   

And they realized it when they stood by the gate of their house, staring at each other and their bags, wondering what they would say to Mark after being away almost the whole day. They took a breath before entering the code that snapped the front gate open, then tiptoed towards the garden which they rarely go into. They placed the bags by the backdoor where Mark would not see, and then peeked into the kitchen window.

Mark’s shadow was visible from where they stood, and their hearts sank; his head was bopping to what sounded like Nam Taehyun’s [“Dirty House”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=351ntdB-Fto), a song they have been listening to on repeat for over a week. Mark, thanks to his best friend Youngjae, was hooked on certain Korean songs that he would come home and play on the speakers until Bambam yelled at him to lower the volume.

Bambam and Jackson looked at each other one more time before walking back to the front door, and ringing the bell.

“Gaga? Bammie!” Mark gasped as he opened the door; he quickly threw his arms at his two boyfriends before dragging them inside. “Where were you?! I was so worried all day, I came back and saw none of you, and you wouldn’t even answer your phones!” Mark nagged as he crossed his arms.

Jackson couldn’t say a word, so Bambam took Mark in for a deep kiss. “I’m glad you’re okay, Bammie. I was worried all day.” Mark then said, hugging him tight before sighing. Bambam caressed his hair.

“Jay took me to the hospital to get me checked, it took some time since there aren't any hospitals nearby and the doctor had a few other patients. The signal was weak too, baby, we’re sorry we worried you this much.” Bambam then said looking at Jackson who nodded and took Mark in for a kiss too.

“You two made up, I’m so glad I thought I had to turn counselor on you.” The three of them laughed and Mark grabbed the both of them to the kitchen. He apparently cooked for the two, preparing a steak recipe he learned from his job at the restaurant (which he insisted on keeping regardless of the elders’ offers to pay for his expenses).

They all ate and had small talk, mostly focusing on Mark’s day. Mark dared asking them about the reason of their fight and they dismissed it as a work problem (apparently, Jackson’s company was planning on expanding and that demanded of Jackson to move out to California for a while which Bambam disagreed on).

They were washing the dishes when both Bambam and Jackson attacked Mark with fluttery kisses, pinning him on the kitchen floor, climbing on him and Mark squealed out of both pain and pleasure, the tickles giving him chills that went all the way down to his toes. He freed himself from Bambam’s grip using his canine teeth to bite on the other’s soft skin, but Jackson was stronger and that’s how Mark ended up being dragged all the way to bed.

After a long make out session, Jackson and Bambam grabbed Mark in between them, almost smothering him before settling each of their heads on his chest. “Netflix and chill?” Bambam asked lowering his hand to brush Mark’s crotch before cheekily reaching for the TV remote. Jackson bit down on Mark’s collarbone before dropping his head on the pillow and grabbing the other two closer to him. “Don’t mind if we do.”

They fell asleep cuddled up all together while watching re-runs of Orphan Black, Mark somehow still confused at the series’ plot while Bambam and Jackson furiously explained it to him, and when they gave up, they realized Mark was deep asleep, drooling a little.

The next morning, Mark was sent on a run to the supermarket where he bought, after Bambam had explained it to him in number and brand, 3 boxes of hair dye, telling Mark that they wanted to change their hair colors in celebration of a new start.

Bambam went with red hair and Jackson with brown, and for the fun of it, Mark went for black hair which hinted a bit of blue (a 4th box of hair dye he had gotten because the color on the box looked cool). They spent their day in the bathroom, smudging each other with hair dye and laughing their lungs out; little did they know that dye stains on skin. The three of them cursed their stupidity in the shower, when Mark’s cheek was blue like it was bruised, and the tip of Bambam’s nose was deep red.

Jaebum called their phones approximately 43 times between the night before and then, but they never picked up, and they turned off the devices. They knew that it would only make him angrier, but they did what they did and they were willing to suffer the consequences their actions dawned upon them.

Later that night, Mark invited them to his exhibition. “It’s for me and 2 other students, because we have outstanding grades. The arts department decided to showcase our photographs.” Mark explained to his boyfriends. “It’s a big deal. And you’re my family, so I need you there.”

Bambam and Jackson tried to get out of it, they really did, but Mark was almost on his knees, begging, until they finally relented and agreed to go.

On the night of the event, while they were in suits and ties, with no one behind any computer keeping their eyes on the surveillance, Bambam and Jackson were out in the open, paranoid, as they avoided all cameras, phones, security cameras, or anything that could get them caught. (Jackson made sure to mess with the surveillance footage when they got home that night, cutting out any scenes of them and looping the tape to fill the gaps). They stuck to the walls, and hid behind Mark, and dodged all cameras, even when Mark asked them for a picture. They knew it hurt him a little, but they had to do it, for their safety. 

(They made it up to him later that night, and his hurt and sadness dissolved into moans and pleasured sighs.)

\---

“Are you sure you can’t go?” Amy asked, following Jinyoung from the bedroom to the kitchen as he struggled to tie his necktie right.

“Yes, honey. I already told you,” Jinyoung sighed, dropping his hands and letting his tie go as Amy took on the task. “I’m working a very important case, and I don’t know when I’ll be home.”

Amy fixed his tie with a sad smile on her lips. “But it was gonna be fun. You like art.”

He doesn’t.

“I’m sorry, darling. You know I would’ve loved to go if I could.” Jinyoung said, kissing his wife’s head. It was Friday morning, and Amy was invited to an event at her new job, and she wanted Jinyoung to be her plus one but he used the “I have work” excuse to get out of it.

Amy had gotten a job as a TA in an esteemed university where she was studying to get her Master’s degree.

“Yeah, I know.” Amy dejectedly said as she watched Jinyoung walk into their daughter’s room.

“Hi, little baby.” Jinyoung cooed as he picked up his two-year-old daughter from her crib and kissed her cheek.

Hailie giggled. “Daddy.”

“Yes, baby?” He asked.

“Play?” The kid asked, holding up her Barbie in front of her father’s face.

“Daddy has to go to work, honey. He has to catch the bad guys.” Jinyoung pouted as Hailie’s face fell.

“Daddy don’t go.” She whined, eyes a bit teary.

“I’ll be back, sweetie. I will bring you some yummy treats with me also. Do you want chocolate?” Jinyoung smiled.

“Yes, and juice.” Hailie smiled.

“You got it, baby. Now be a good girl to the babysitter while daddy and mommy are gone, okay?” He kissed her face and she giggled.

“Love you, daddy.”

“I love you too, baby.”

\--

“Did you get any updates this week?” Jinyoung ask when Espinoza walked into his office.

“About the Henderson case?” She asked and Jinyoung nodded. “Not yet. The forensics department has been trying to trace back the footprints, but they haven’t found anything yet. They did get a trace on the half fingerprint they found on the safe. It’s for a woman by the name of Pam Jenkins. We’re working on getting her in for questioning. Strangely, the footprints are of a man’s. So we’re technically at square one.”

“Keep working on it, please.”

“Yes, sir.” Espinoza nodded, then, “Oh, before I leave, the director wants to see you when you’re free.”

Jinyoung finished work at 1am; it had been a very long day, and he didn’t even get the chance to check the messages he had gotten from Amy during the night, probably updating him about her evening.

As he sat in his car in the parking lot of the station, he took the chance to reply to his wife’s messages. He texted her _“Very nice pictures. I’ll be home in a few”_ before he opened the pictures she sent him. They were of her at the art exhibition, standing next to some people Jinyoung has never seen before, even a few selfies. He was about to close the app but something caught his eye at the last moment.

In one of Amy’s pictures with another woman, two people were caught conversing in the background. One of them looked vaguely familiar, and the other one… _the other one was Bambam._

Jinyoung stepped out of the car, dropping his phone on the seat, and then he started walking around, giving the phone looks like it was gonna explode or something.

“Fuck.” He said, then repeated it around 20 times before he stepped back into his car and grabbed the phone again. He opened the picture again, halfheartedly expecting it to be different, but when he saw that it was still the same, he gulped.

Jinyoung did a double take, zooming in on the person and blinking (he even pinched himself to make sure that he was awake and not dreaming about it). He could not be wrong, because although he had flaming red hair instead of his natural brown color, Bambam’s face was the exact same as Jinyoung remembers. A straight nose, pouty lips, and a set of warm brown eyes.

Jinyoung quickly checked the other photos, but he was not able to spot Bambam again.

“Oh, my fucking…” Jinyoung trailed off, hands shaking with excitement and disbelief. “What the fuck? What the actual fuck? Oh, my God.” Then he started laughing. It sounded hysterical, even to him, but he could not believe it. All this time, he’s been climbing mountains and swimming oceans to find them, and they were right _there_ under his fucking nose.

“Okay, Jinyoung. Calm down. Deep breaths. You are a professional. You are gonna handle this like any other investigation.” He spoke to himself, trying to get his heart to slow down.

“But what would they be doing at a university?” Jinyoung thought. “Maybe it was one of their schemes.”

He let the information sink in. Bambam and Jackson were closer to him than he had thought. They were in LA, and he has seen them with his own to eyes (well, not particularly, but technically it was true).

Jinyoung drove home with shaky hands (which really wasn't all that safe, but he wasn't thinking straight) and when he entered his apartment, it actually dawned on him. So he formed a plan in his head, the detective in him going to work on the spot.

The next morning, he talked to Amy about her night, and she told him how the exhibition was for the work of some of the students and how she thought their photographs were brilliant. Jinyoung didn't really care about that, so he tried to ask about what he really wanted to know, but how was he gonna ask?

“Hey honey, did that red hair guy have another Asian-looking man with him?”

That probably would raise a lot of questions that Jinyoung was not ready to answer, so instead, he set his wife and child off to her parents’ place, and then he called in to work and told them about how he was gonna be a little late to work because he had a very pressing matter to attend to. No one actually questioned it because Jinyoung had been working overtime since the first day he started at the PD.

Dressed casually and with his heart in his stomach, Jinyoung entered the gates of UCLA. He went to the administration first and he used his badge to ask about the event that had taken place the night before. A woman whom he understood to be the right hand of the Vice President, walked him to the arts department where they met the instructor who had organized the exhibition.

“With all due respect, sir, but I don't understand what my students' exhibition has to do with your case.” The instructor said.

“Mr. Michaels, we got some information that a suspect in this case attended the exhibition last night, and we're trying to find them.” Jinyoung half-lied.

“It was an invitation-only event. If their name was on the guest list, they were allowed to enter, otherwise, it was impossible to enter. Our security was on full alert.” The instructor said.

“I understand, but maybe their name was on the list. Do you mind if I get a copy?”

Reluctantly, with a few more questions, the instructor told Jinyoung where he could get the guest list. It was a tedious effort, but there was nothing his badge could not get him.

Jinyoung took a look at the two-page guest list once he got his hands on it. It was put in alphabetical order according to last names, and all the names on it had descriptions next to them, like “Dean of Business School” or “Vice President of Academics” or “X’s Plus One” or things like that, except two names.

Bellamy Moore and Jonah Harris.

Next to them, it only said (Tuan) which was vague. Jinyoung asked about it, and he was told that Mark Tuan was one of the students for whom the exhibition was held.

Jinyoung was 90% sure that those were them, Bambam and Jackson, but he needed to make sure, because 90% does not help him open an official case.

Later, Jinyoung asked to see the surveillance footage (something that usually needed a warrant, but luckily, the university did not ask for it), and Jinyoung was led to a stuffy room with multiple screens. He sat with the security personnel fast forwarding through the footage, but he did not see them. Not even once. Which was very strange, but then he noticed something.  

He noticed the same scene pass twice. It was a very inconspicuous scene, a view of the venue with a couple of people passing by, but Jinyoung’s detective eye caught it. He did not say anything, however, he only thanked the university for their cooperation, took the guest list and went straight to the police department.

Once there, he went directly to one of the IT personnel on his team, a young man who’s called Leo.

“Leo, can I see you in my office for a second?”

Leo followed Jinyoung to his office and once there, he looked confused.

“I need a favor.” Jinyoung started, and it confused Leo even more.

“Uhm, sure, sir.” He opted to replying.

“I need you to run shallow background checks on everyone on this list. Nothing too thorough, just basic information and IDs. Do you think you can do that by the end of the day?” Jinyoung said.

“Does this have to do with the Henderson case?” Leo asked, and Jinyoung shook his head.

“It’s for another case I am working on. It's important that this stays between you and me only.” Jinyoung’s tone was authoritative, and Leo got the hint.

“Of course, sir,” Leo took the paper from Jinyoung's hand. “I'll run them and get back to you by 4.”

“Thank you.” Jinyoung nodded and Leo left.

Jinyoung tried to get work done during the day, but he was too distracted, on pins and needles, until 4, when a knock sounded on his office door and Leo walked in with a tablet in his hand.

“I ran everyone, sir. Here are the results of 110 people.” Leo said, handing Jinyoung the tablet.

“But the list had 112 names.” Jinyoung furrowed his brows in confusion.

“That’s right, but there were two names that did not come up anywhere. No IDs, no police records, nothing. It’s like they don't exist.” Leo explained, and Jinyoung nodded.

“Strange,” Jinyoung commented. “Can you keep tabs on those two names? If anything shows up about them, let me know.”

Leo nodded with a hurried “yes, sir.”

“Thank you, Leo. I owe you one.” Jinyoung sincerely said.

“Oh, no, sir. It was no trouble.” Leo smiled before he exited the office and left Jinyoung to look through the information.

Jinyoung looked through all 110 names, and he was right, then only names that did not appear were Bellamy and Jonah.

A sense of extreme happiness enveloped Jinyoung at the new-found information. Now he had their names, well, their fake ones, but it was one step closer.

He decided to wait a little before speaking to his director about opening a case. He wanted to wait till he has solid evidence, and he had waited 7 years already, he can wait a little longer.

Two weeks later, and Jinyoung's only lead was the Mark Tuan kid. He kept tabs on him, seeing where he went and what he did, but Mark lived a life like any college kid; classes, the occasional parties, a job, and home.

Nothing was peculiar about him, except maybe that he worked as a restaurant manager, but he drove a sports car that looked like it cost his salary for 10 years, 20 folds.

Jinyoung did not want to admit it to himself, but he was getting almost obsessive about the Mark kid. He spent hours trying to find anything about him; it got to the point where Jinyoung knew that Mark had one friend (which was a little sad) and that he likes to drink Strawberry frappes from the same café every day.

In his desperation to focus on his beloved Bonnie and Clyde case, Jinyoung worked twice as hard on the Henderson case and fortunately to him, with the extreme help of Espinoza and his team, they were able to catch the culprit (who turned out to be Pam’s husband who was having an affair with Lauren Black, the victim, Jim Henderson’s, albeit married sister).

For the following week, every day from 8, Jinyoung follows Mark from the moment he leaves his shift at the restaurant, till he gets home (which Jinyoung learned was one of the villas at the east side.)

Which irked Jinyoung more, a college students who drove a BMW, lived in a villa, and still worked at a 4-star restaurant?

It did not add up, not in any way, until one night when Mark did not exit work until a little after 12am (yes, Jinyoung sat in his car and waited). Mark was about to enter his car (which was conveniently parked very close to Jinyoung's. Fortunately, Jinyoung's car had tinted windows, so he could not be seen) when a black Mercedes parked next to it and someone got out.

“Baby, what are you doing here?” Mark asked the person, and the person took down their hoodie before they crossed their arms and spoke up.

“Mark Yien Tuan, it’s midnight! You were supposed to be home 3 hours ago! Why don't you ever pick up your phone?” The angry voice said and Jinyoung’s heart almost stopped.

Jackson.

“I'm sorry. My battery died and I had to take on extra hours because Chloe called in sick and I had no free time to call you to let you know.” Mark sighed, and Jackson stepped closer to him, his face getting caught in the light and Jinyoung's eyes popped out of their sockets.

It really was him. In the flesh and blood. Standing 2 meters away from Jinyoung.

“Oh, my God.” Jinyoung whispered to himself, eyes still wide open and zeroed on the boy.

“Bellamy and I were worried out of our minds. He had at least 3 panic attacks before he begged me to come looking for you.” Jackson said, his arms pulling Mark into a hug.

 _Bellamy._ Bambam.

Jinyoung’s heart was beating so loud, he was almost sure that the men standing outside could hear it.

“I'm sorry, baby. I should've called.” Mark said.

“It's okay, Markiepoo. Now let's get home before Bammie dies.” Jackson chuckled, giving the skinny boy a kiss on the lips before they got into their cars and drove off.

Jinyoung was still in shock, his throat closing up and his heart pounding heavily in his ears, but he willed himself to turn on his car and drive after the two boys.

They both drove into the house that Jinyoung already knew of. Through the gates, Jinyoung could not see much, except the front door being opened. He parked his car a little farther from the house and he sat in it for almost a whole hour, just trying to come in terms with the fact that after 8 years, he _finally_ found them.

Not a clue, or a half-assed confession from some rich washup, but he found _them_ ; in the flesh and blood. It was almost surreal, like his mind was playing tricks on him, like he got too obsessive and now it turned into some sort of mental illness, but Mark was real, and Jinyoung had seen both Jackson and Bambam with him.

Jinyoung knew that the only way he could catch them was through Mark. He was sure that Mark knew nothing about the boys’ pasts, one, because he calls them by fake names, and two, because Jackson and Bambam had always been secretive, even with people who were close to them. Jinyoung would first-hand vouch for that.

However, Jinyoung knew that whatever evidence he had would not be enough to open an official case about it, so when he got home, he spent hours in his study, working on finding something, anything, that would stand as hard evidence against them.

The next morning, Jinyoung called his friend in San Diego and asked for a copy of the case file of the complaint that had come in.

“Jinyoung, it did not go through.” His friend had told him.

“Yes, I know, but you sent me a picture of the sketch, and I’m sure you still have the confession. I just need a copy of the file. My PD is working on something.” Jinyoung replied.

It took 2 days, but finally, by an official request from LAPD (which was not entirely official -or legal), San Diego PD sent in a copy of the case file from September 2015.

The sketch was of Bambam’s slightly different face, and the story in the confession had the same pattern as Yugyeom’s confession.

(Jinyoung felt ecstatic a week later when he exited the director’s office with an official order to bring in _Bonnie and Clyde_ for investigation.)

“You do realize that following a university kid around is not really all that legal or healthy, right?”

Jinyoung snapped from his daze when Leo entered his office with his infamous tablet.

“It’s for a case.” Jinyoung simply replied. Over the past month, him and Leo have gotten pretty close because he had been a great help to Jinyoung when the detective wanted to get things done on the downlow.

“The Bonnie and Clyde case,” Leo hummed. “I heard.”

“Are you only here to patronize me, Leo?” Jinyoung sighed.

“Oh, no, sir. I’m just curious. You have been on this case since what? 7 years now? As I’ve heard. And the evidence you have are pretty scarce.” Leo took a seat and looked at Jinyoung.

“They’re good felons.” Jinyoung shrugged.

“Maybe. But why are you so passionate about this case?” Leo asked, and Jinyoung looked up from the paperwork in his hands to give Leo a look

“I like a challenge.” Jinyoung simply replied, going back to his papers.

Leo stayed silent, and Jinyoung finally stopped writing and looked at him. “Is there anything else, Leo?”

“Why haven’t you caught them yet?” Leo asked, and Jinyoung quickly replied with, “Because the house they are at is under the name of Mark Tuan, the car they drive is also under Tuan’s name, and so far, the only connection I have between Bellamy Moore, Jonah Harris, and Mark Tuan is a picture my wife sent me and what I have seen by borderline stalking the kid. This is not how the law works, and if I want to catch them and keep them locked up, it has to go by the law.”

What Jinyoung wanted to really say, however, was, “I want them to live happily, normally, before I snatch the rug from under their feet and watch them fall.”

“Besides,” Jinyoung added instead, “I have 24/7 tabs on them, their names are at every security check exit in this city. There is no way out.”

“I see,” Leo hummed. “Anyway, I wanted to give you this.” He then slid a folded paper towards Jinyoung.

“What’s this?” Jinyoung asked.

“A warrant.” Leo simply replied.

Jinyoung snatched the paper quickly and opened it. “What?” His eyes went wide.

“A warrant to search Mark Tuan’s house and bring in any suspects for investigation.” Leo smirked as Jinyoung looked at him like he just gave him a kidney or something.

“But how? How did you link Mark to this case?” The detective could only ask.

“Let’s just say that my girlfriend may or may not work at the same place as Mark Tuan and she may or may not have seen him on a date with a certain Bellamy Moore. I got the restaurant books, the names and dates are there. It needed a little convincing but the director seemed convinced by the connection and she got us the warrant.” Leo said, standing up.

Jinyoung almost cried then and there, but instead he stood up as well, and said, “Leonardo, you are getting a raise.”

To which Leo answered with, “My real name is Leonard and you are not authorized to give me a raise, sir.”

Jinyoung laughed and then Leo said, “If you hurry up, you might catch them before sundown.”

Jinyoung nodded but said, “Not yet.” Before he collected his badge and gun, and exited the office with the warrant neatly tucked in his jacket.

\--

Jinyoung waited for Mark in the photography studio at UCLA for 30 minutes, before the lanky kid walked in and furrowed his eyebrows at the stranger.

“Mark Tuan?” Jinyoung asked, standing up and facing the boy.

“Yes?” Mark’s reply came out more as a question than a statement. “Have we met before? You look familiar.”

“Park Jinyoung,” Jinyoung showed the younger boy his badge. “Detective at LAPD.” Then he put his hand out for Mark to shake it. “I think we bumped into each other before. It’s a small world.” Jinyoung smartly replied, and Mark frowned.

Mark looked taken aback, but he shook Jinyoung’s hand anyway. “Is there something wrong, detective?”

Mark’s head suggested everything, ranging from his weed stash to his involvement in some murder case that he is unaware of, but the detective replied with something else entirely.

“I wanted to speak to you about your friends.” Jinyoung said, taking a seat.

“Youngjae?” Mark asked, confused.

“No,” Jinyoung chuckled. “Bellamy Moore and Jonah Harris.”

Oh.

“Oh, are-are they in trouble?” Mark said, his head pounding.

Jinyoung smiled slightly. “A little.”

Mark almost fainted, but he held himself. “I don’t understand. W-what did they do?”

“I’ll explain, Mark. Just sit down.” Jinyoung calmly said, and Mark nervously took a seat facing the detective.

“How long have you known Bellamy and Jonah?” Jinyoung asked.

“Around half a year.” Mark replied.

“And what’s the extent of your relationship with them?” Jinyoung tried to sound as professional as he could while he asked questions he already knew the answers to.

“I’d say we’re pretty close.” Mark tried to be vague, because you don’t usually go around telling police officers that you’re dating two people at once.

“Hmm, I see,” Jinyoung hummed. “How much do you know about them?”

Mark was nervously fiddling with his fingers as he avoided eye contact. “Enough,” he replied. “What they’ve told me.”

“Did they tell you that Bellamy and Jonah are not their real names?” Jinyoung asked, and Mark’s eyes shot up.

“W-what?” The younger boy stuttered.

“Mr. Tuan, those two boys that you have been living with for the past months, they’re not who you think they are.” Jinyoung decided to start off slow.

“I don’t understand.” Mark’s words were coming out choked, like someone had an iron grip on his throat and wouldn’t let go.

“Their real names are Jackson and Bambam. They’re con-artists, thieves, and I’ve been after them for 7 years.” Jinyoung looked triumphant as the boy stumbled out of his seat, standing up on shaky legs.

“Bambam?” Mark whispered. He was well aware of the name because he had heard it twice before.

Jinyoung nodded. “Have you heard it before?”

Mark’s breathing was getting heavier. “Why are you telling me this?” He ignored the man’s question.

“Because,” Jinyoung stood up. “I’m a police officer. It’s my job to look after you.”

“They- they won’t hurt me.” Mark said, eyes wild.

“Maybe not physically, but they’re criminals, Mark. Outlaws. We do not know the extent of their capabilities.” Jinyoung said.

“How can I believe any of what you’re telling me?” Mark’s voice was getting louder, shakier. “They never leave the house. Bellamy owns a company and Jay works at an IT company. T-they love me. I love them. How can I believe you?” Mark did not care about whether or not the detective knew of their relationship, but by the looks of it, he already knew before Mark told him.

“Mr. Tuan, over the past 7 years, they have had over 34 different identities. They have been over the world; pulling scams, stealing money, robbing people. If you don’t believe me, you can probably believe this.” Jinyoung said, bluffing, handing Mark the case file.

By the time Mark had flipped through the papers, his tears were blurring his vision, and his hands were shaking too much, he almost dropped everything if Jinyoung had not caught it.

“You’re lying.” Mark choked out, although he knew that the detective really wasn’t.

“Mark,” Jinyoung started. “I know this is all too much, but you needed to know the truth.”

“Do they know you?” Mark asked.

“Very well,” Jinyoung answered. “They’ve been running away from me for the past 7 years.”

“W-what are you gonna do to them?” Mark asked.

“They’re gonna be brought in for investigation, then probably jail for a very long time.”

The moment Jinyoung finished his sentence, Mark took off running.

“Shit.” Jinyoung cursed, and called after him, but the kid already disappeared. Quickly, Jinyoung ran to the car and turned on the radio.

“Dispatch, this is detective Park, I need backup.” He quickly said, then proceeded to give out the address of the house.

_“Copy that. Backup on its way.”_

“10-40, this is a silent run. Proceed with no sirens, no lights.”

_“Copy that.”_

Then Jinyoung was rushing to fulfill his vengeance.

\--

Mark had never driven that fast in his life; what would usually take him 30 minutes, took him 10.

With teary eyes and a pounding heart, Mark was parking his car haphazardly in front of the house and storming in, in no time.

“Markie? You’re home early.” Bambam said when Mark appeared in the living room. Bambam and Jackson were watching TV in the living room when Mark ran inside.

Mark stood silent in front of them before he proceeded to shed more tears.

“Mark, why are you crying?” Jackson asked as he saw the tears trailing down his boyfriend’s face. He then turned off the TV before he stood up and tried to move towards the youngest, but Mark put an arm up to stop him.

“Mark, what’s wrong?” Bambam said, and then finally, Mark spoke.

“What are your names?” He asked, and both boys’ faces fell.

“Mark.” One of them said, but Mark wasn’t sure who.

“Answer me!” He yelled. Bambam moved closer, but Mark stepped back.

“Baby, calm down.” Bambam said, but Mark wasn’t planning to.

“Do you know Park Jinyoung?” He asked, and both boys sucked in sharp breaths.

“Where have you heard that name?” Jackson asked.

“So you do know him. He wasn’t lying.” Mark’s voice was choked up, tears falling endlessly.

“Mark, we can explain.” Bambam tried to touch Mark’s arm but Mark shoved it away.

“Explain what, you assholes? How your names are Bambam and Jackson? How everything was a lie? How you are wanted by the law?” Mark yelled.

“He knows we’re here,” Bambam turned towards Jackson. “We have to go.”

“Mark, you have to come with us.” Jackson gripped Mark’s arm but the younger threw his fist into Jackson’s face so fast, it disoriented him.

“I’m not going anywhere with you!” Mark yelled.

Jackson stumbled back, gripping his jaw.

“Jackson, go. They’re close. I’ll handle this.” Bambam said and Jackson was running towards the basement with Mark chasing after him, but the ever-locked door closed in his face and Jackson locked it before Mark could reach it.

When Mark noticed that the door was locked, he raced back upstairs. He found Bambam in their bedroom, pulling papers and documents from places Mark would’ve never looked.

“Jaebum, he’s coming. He found Mark. He’s coming for us.” Bambam said into his phone, then proceeded to run into the bathroom, throw the papers into the bathtub, and turn on the water until the papers were soggy enough for Bambam’s fingers to rip into them, dissolving them into nothing.

By then, Mark was on his knees, sobbing, as he watched everything unfold in front of him.

Bambam saw him there, and he gripped him by the shoulders and hauled him up to his feet.

“Mark, listen to me. We love you. It was all real. You have to believe us. Everything with you was real, baby.” Bambam said hurriedly, but Mark was barely breathing. “Everything is yours. The house, the cars, the money. Everything. Someone will find you, and he’ll explain everything to you, but we have to go.”

And with a ghost of a kiss, Bambam was running back downstairs. Mark, obviously, ran after him. When they got to the front door, Jackson was running towards them.

“Everything is done. We have to go.” Jackson said, then he noticed Mark.

Mark let Jackson crush him into a hug. “We love you. Please forgive us.”

Then everything was happening in slow motion.

Police officers were filling from the still-open front door, yelling at Bambam and Jackson to put their hands behind their heads and get on their knees. It all happened so fast, because before Mark knew it, both boys he loved were in handcuffs, held down by police officers.

“Bellamy Moore and Jonah Harris, you are under arrest for the charges of identity theft, scamming, robbery, and illegal hacking of private information. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can, and will be held against you in the court of law.”

Through his tears, Mark saw Jinyoung enter the house, his stone-cold expression morphing into a smirk at the sight of the two boys in handcuffs.

“We’re so sorry, baby,” Mark heard Jackson say, looking at him through his own tears. “We’re so sorry.”

Then the room was so silent, you could hear a pin drop.

Jinyoung walked towards the two boys, eyes blazing. He had fantasized about everything he would tell them the moment he caught them, but the sight of them so broken and defeated rendered him speechless.

“Hi, boys,” He opted to saying after moments of silence. “It’s been so long.” Then he walked towards Bambam and hauled him to his feet, intentionally pressing the handcuffs harder into his skin. Bambam hissed, then smirked at the boy facing him.

“Easy, Junior. You know I never liked it that tight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyheyhoo! It's S here for a change.  
> I never really wrote notes before haha I usually demand of R to do it. Ooops?  
> We hope this chapter made you want to rip our heads, because that was our intention hehe
> 
> I shamelessly dropped that promo for Nam Taehyun. Yes I did, because you know what? I LOVE THAT MAN AND YOU ALL NEED TO SUPPORT HIM AND LISTEN TO THE SONG (hyperlinked in the chapter) BECAUSE IT'S SO GOOD! (; ' O' )o
> 
> Also, I wanted to praise R for her hard work in this chapter, ILY I'm a sucky writer without you boo. Hate you, love you, that kind of stuff <3


	14. xiv. Eggs & Bacon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sometimes before it gets better, the darkness gets bigger, the person that you'd take a bullet for is behind the trigger - [Miss Missing You by Fall Out Boy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0ecLVSWGcCM)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! ANGST! Mentions of drugs (it's barely there but still), also, lame puns.

Jackson

Bambam

Junior

That was all that went through Mark’s head; a mocking voice repeating the names with the number of footsteps that passed Mark, and he flinched at every small breeze or hint of shadows that shifted in his sight, snapping him out of his thoughts (daydream, more like day-mare?)

Mark stopped crying. He was actually dry-crying, his lips quivering as every name was repeated in his head. About 50 minutes had passed since Jackson and Bambam were hauled into the backs of two police cars and around 48 minutes since the police started searching the house, flipping it upside down. After attaining the warrant and Mark’s approval, people in uniforms stepped inside the house that Mark once thought was home.

A piece of paper was shoved in Mark’s face; he managed to read the first few words to recognize it was a search warrant for the house, but it’s not like he would have resisted in the first place so he just sat there on the stairs staring at nothing in particular but thinking about everything.

This is not how love was supposed to feel like, he thought. Love was supposed to be this warm thing that made you feel giddy inside, like the fresh warm Christmas cookies you wait for all year long to eat on a cold night, _except Mark only felt the cold_. The type of cold that hits you so hard, your sensations get overwhelmed and for one second, just one brief second, you feel it burning you, _and Mark only burned_.

He loved them, _loves_ them, he really does, and he was willing to give up anything for them. But now he saw that their love was fake, and it was all a game to them. Now it dawned on him how betrayed and belittled he felt at the lies that he was being fed by the two people he trusted the most.

So Mark just sat there, contemplating the many ways his life would’ve gone if he wasn’t fated to meet Bellamy, well…Bambam that night. How he would’ve been sleeping soundly in his apartment bed as his alarm would wake him up in the morning or Youngjae would come knocking at his door, yelling at him “hyung, you’re gonna be late to class”. At this hour, 2:17 am at night, Mark would have never guessed he’d be sitting on the fancy side of LA, having his heart break with every short breath he took- and it hurt.

At this hour of the night, Mark would have been pulling an all-nighter, editing his photos for tomorrow’s project, surviving on the most redbull bottles he could drink before he felt his heart threatening to burst. At this hour of the night, Mark would have least excepted being at the fancier side of town, having cops search the large house that’s built behind him, a house he once shared with two people he loved.

The cops searched the house’s every nook and cranny for hours on end, slamming open any locked doors and throwing whatever came in their way, and Mark could hear everything; every slam and every crash and every camera shutter going off, but he still didn’t move an inch, the cold freezing his body completely out of normal function. It was a hot night, however, Mark felt cold. The type of cold that had him feeling a thin layer of ice on his chest as his lungs expanded, taking in heavy air. The type of cold that ran chills all over his body, that had his limbs numb and his cheeks red; that had his whole body shivering mercilessly.

The cops were on their way out, ending the search, and the only thing they had in hand was the weed they found in the stash that Mark told Jackson and Bambam about, and the pictures they took. Mark still didn’t move and he was pretty sure everyone thought he was crazy.

Some cop softly placed a hand on Mark’s shoulder after uttering words that barely registered in Mark’s head. “Go get home, son, it’s getting late, you have no business here.” Mark only looked ahead of him, the word ‘home’ ringing loudly in his ear, and before he knew it, his tears were falling again- he doesn’t know where home is. Who is he kidding? He could sleep on the stairs for all he cared.

Even after the police left, Mark just sat there, silence and darkness enveloping the driveway in front of him, the only source of light coming from the slightly opened door behind his back. After his tears went dry for the second time that night, and his legs went numb from sitting in the same position for too long, Mark stood up on wobbly legs, grabbed his keys and phone from where he threw them in the living room (well technically, from the floor of the room that he barely recognized, the cops having it turned upside down).

4:13 am on a hot night, Mark felt like utter shit.

There is no fancy way of describing the feeling, so he settled with that. Yes, he felt like shit and he hated it; he felt coldness and bitterness, and he felt anger, but most importantly he felt hurt and it was not fun.

He took a look at the house that was now estranged, gulping down the last wail he let out, before dialing Youngjae’s number.

4:24 am on a hot night was when Youngjae, Mark’s only friend, picked up the phone, voice sleepy but worried. Mark tried to hold his tears but he couldn’t, and for four minutes, Mark cried to the worried and subtle voice on the other end of the line.

“Youngjae-ah, I fucked up. Please, p-please come pick me up.” Mark said when he managed to get himself together, sucking in a breath with every word that he uttered, laboring himself, exhaustion kicking in. His eyes were red and droopy, and he ached all over, both physically and emotionally, that is, and he yet again, felt like utter shit.

“Hyung, where are you? I’m coming right now.” Youngjae urgently said as he struggled to put his pants on with his hands as he balanced his phone on his shoulder with his cheek.

“The house, p-please hurry I want to go back home.” Mark said with a raspy voice, hiccups merging with sniffles, and Youngjae heard a loud slam of what he identified as a door accompanied with slight shuffling and then the slump of a body on the ground.

“What do you mean, hyung? I don’t understand.” but before Mark could reply, the line was disconnected and the repetitive beeps rang in Youngjae’s ear.

Youngjae said nothing to Mark when he picked him up from the sidewalk; the older boy was laying on the ground beside the house, the front gate settled behind him. Mark’s hair was messy, his clothes were dirty and wrinkled, but most importantly his face was blank, the redness of his eyes revealing that he had been crying all night.

At 5 am in the morning, Youngjae didn’t ask Mark anything. He drove silently, passing the many drunk and happy people that clumsily walked or danced on the streets, passing the many cars of the people who rushed back home after a long night of either drinking, partying or hanging around the beach.

It was a normal thing for people in LA to go to the beach and have a night swim or to camp under the many starry nights as the waves softly crashed, the rhythm soothing the many daily stresses that people felt, as they kicked out and dipped their naked feet in the sun-warmed sand- something Mark once planned on doing with the people he once would have described as the love of his life.

5:34 am was when Mark cried for the thousandth time that night in the shower. This time the silent tears were replaced by many whines and huffs that were muffled by the water splashing. Youngjae didn’t leave the apartment, making Mark’s ignored bed for him and putting his clothes in his wearied-out washing machine, before silently dropping some towels on the bathroom floor and existing the premise. He’ll speak tomorrow, Youngjae thought.

5:49 am was when Mark left his shower to an empty room, the lights dimmed low and his window open, the sounds of cars passing by being the only life brought into the room. He laid in his bed on his back and watched the shadows of passing cars as they played on his ceiling, and as the clock ticked and his effortless tears dropped, the cars became more frequent, and before he knew it, birds chirped and weak sunlight hit his face.

Mark didn’t check the time when his racing mind slowly slipped to black nothingness; the cold in his chest melting into a warm sensation, and his breathing stabilizing. His consciousness slipping out with the torturous feeling of loneliness and betrayal, relieving him.

-

Mark was woken up from his temporary relief when he felt a light brush on his forehead. Youngjae was extra cautious with Mark, seeming hypersensitive to every breath Mark took. He was anxious, mostly because at some point and thanks to his undying curiosity, he’s bound to ask and Mark is bound to tell him what happened.

“Hyung, I made you breakfast, wake up.” Youngjae softly said, resolving to tapping Mark on the forehead to get him to actually wake. Mark groaned a bit, shuffling in his bed before reality hit him again.

The bed felt stiffer, and for a split second, Mark extended his arm to caress his favorite koala, but there was no one there. Only the soft sound of his best friend telling him to wake up. “Come on, Mark, I know you’re up. It’s almost 3 pm, please get up.”

Youngjae played nice, but after that, he was dragging Mark’s ass to the kitchen counter where he forcibly fed him eggs and bacon and then made him gulp down the extremely bitter coffee. To say Mark wanted to throw up was an understatement, but he was too preoccupied by his murderous tendencies towards Youngjae, and before he knew it, the channeled anger at Youngjae blew out of proportions.

So Mark did what he had to do, which was throw every bit of breakable tableware he owned on the floor before screaming and kicking at every surface in his wake, “fucks” and “shits” being the only things he was able to scream out. Youngjae, speechless at the act, stood motionless in his spot in the kitchen; a spot which Mark miraculously did not randomly aim at.

“I hate them, Youngjae! I fucking hate them!” Mark screamed when his eyes met those of a scared Youngjae before falling down and breaking into tears, bits of broken china piercing his knees. “They fucking ruined me.” was the last thing that Mark said before two arms embraced him from the back, lifting him up from the dirty floor.

Youngjae cleaned Mark’s wounds as they both lay on the bathroom floor and Mark, only then, did he spill out everything that happened. With sympathetic eyes, Youngjae listened to everything that Mark told him, from the fake names to the events of the night before.

They sat there for a little more before Youngjae helped Mark up from the floor and into his room to get some pants on. “Hyung, I know this is too early to discuss, but my uncle, the defense attorney…he-he can help them.” Youngjae was aware of Mark’s cold gaze, as he paused for a while before resuming to put on his clothes.

“No, I think they deserve whatever comes next for them.” Mark was undeniably angry, but even he himself felt bitter at the words he just uttered. Youngjae seemed to get the memo, nodding Mark’s way in understanding, but he wasn’t going to stand by and watch as his best friend’s life seeped into his past depressed and destructive ways.

Youngjae decided to sleep over at Mark’s for the while, and regardless of Mark’s objections, he moved his stuff in, helping Mark clean the house and making sure he eats, and actually gets up for university, leaving the part where he talks to his uncle undisclosed.

For the first few weeks, Mark acted like a living corpse, leading on his usual life with pent up emotions and a poker face. He attended his classes, and was able to do enough studying and work to pass his finals and finish up his projects. However, when darkness poured in its glass, Mark curled in his bed and wept until his head was numb and he was taken into deep relief. Some days, the only thing digested in his system were the sleeping pills and the anti-depressants that he managed to get ahold of.

The sleepless nights came regardless, and Mark found himself lucid dreaming about the stars again, how they shifted and rotated fast in his room, some brushing up on his skin and burning him at random, causing him a deep sting-like sensation that shot up to his heart.

Love shouldn’t sting, but Mark felt it.

\----

“Where’s the money?”

“What money?”

“You little bas-” Jinyoung breathed through his nose and collected himself. “I have no time for your bullshit, Jackson.”

“Who’s Jackson? My name is Jonah.” Jackson smiled innocently, although on the inside he was half scared, and half angry as fuck, but his freedom and Bambam’s depended on how well they could keep the front.

Jinyoung laughed, but his chest was heaving with anger. He had been sitting in that stuffy interrogation room with Jackson for the past hour, trying to get him to say something, _anything,_ but Jackson was a hard-headed son of a bitch who was not willing to falter, no matter the threats that left Jinyoung’s mouth.

“Okay, _Jonah._ I’m gonna ask you again. We know you have been living in that house with that kid, what’s his name? Mike?”

“Mark.” Jackson corrected, and his eyes darkened a little, but he caught himself just in time and relaxed his face back to the nonchalant expression he had on.

“Right, Mark. What’s your relationship with him?” Jinyoung crossed his arms above his chest and stared at Jackson.

“Friends.” Jackson stuck to giving one-worded answers.

“Of course,” Jinyoung gritted his teeth angrily. “You’re going to keep wasting my time, aren’t you?”

“I have answered all your questions, detective.” Jackson shrugged.

“All your answers were lies!” Jinyoung slapped his hand on the table between them, but Jackson did not even blink.

“I don’t understand, detective. Do you have any evidence to prove that?” Jackson asked, making Jinyoung even angrier.

“You have always been a fucking asshole.” Jinyoung said.

“I don’t know you, sir. Maybe you have me confused with someone else?” Jackson smiled innocently yet again. And Jinyoung was almost gonna punch him, but he decided against it, and instead, he threw him one last glare before he exited the room to go to the other one where Bambam was. He purposely chose to question Jackson first and make Bambam wait because he knew that Bambam hated waiting, and his anxiety over being in the dark about what’s going on would probably make him crack fast.

“Detective Park,” Jinyoung saw Espinoza walking his way. When she arrived in front of him, she looked annoyed. “You’ve been in there for more than an hour.”

Jinyoung sighed. “He’s not talking.”

“Does he even have something to talk about?” Espinoza questioned, her doubt showing. "They both decided to represent themselves. They didn't even ask for attorneys. They're that confident."

“They always are. Of course he has something to talk about. He’s lying about everything because he’s not scared of the consequences.” Jinyoung said.

“How do you know he’s lying?” Espinoza sighed.

“Everyone knows. He’s even lying about his name.” Jinyoung scoffed.

“No, quite frankly, nobody knows anything about this case.” Espinoza retorted.

“I will get them to speak.” Jinyoung said, determined.

“You better. Leo and I got you the warrant because you gave us solid evidence to get it, but those 3 pieces of evidence will not hold in court if they do not speak. If you have nothing against them, then they’re gonna walk, and whatever you’re doing now is just going to be postponing the inevitable.” Espinoza informed Jinyoung, but he already knew, and he was going to try his best to avoid that.

“I will get them to speak.” Jinyoung repeated, then walked away towards the other interrogation room.

He got a cup of black coffee from the coffee machine before he stood in front of the interrogation room and looked inside.

From the small window on the door, Jinyoung could see Bambam sitting calmly in the chair, handcuffed to the metallic table in front of him. He looked calm, cautious, almost frozen in place. Jinyoung took a deep breath, braced himself, then entered the room, Bambam’s head snapping up to meet his gaze.

“Took you long enough. I’ve been waiting for you, Jinyoungie.” Bambam said, smirking slightly, head tilting to the side. He knew he should not have said that, but he could not help himself, not when Jinyoung looked so smug.

Jinyoung stayed calm as he walked forward and stood facing the now red-haired boy, Bambam’s eyes following his every move. Jinyoung pressed record on the camera that was installed into a cam-holder on the side of the table.

“Hmm, you’re right. It’s been 8 years,” Jinyoung hummed, twirling his finger over the coffee cup that was still in his hand. “You have to excuse the delay. I’ve been a little busy.”

“Hmm, it's okay. I had somethings to keep me occupied while I waited.” Bambam smiled cutely, batting his eyelashes, and Jinyoung only put the coffee cup on the table and slid it towards Bambam’s cuffed hands.

“Bitter just how you like it.” He commented as he took a seat opposite of the other boy, and Bambam grinned.

“Aww, you still remember,” Bambam said, then he picked the cup and took a sip, the long metal chains of the handcuffs clinking on the table as his hands moved. He made a sour face as he gulped the sip down. “No, thanks, I don't want it. I love things sweet now.”

Jinyoung scoffed then said, “You're incredible.”

“All those years of separation and I still got you to compliment me in a minute.” Bambam chuckled, sticking his tongue out a little from the side of his mouth in a mocking smile.

Jinyoung only glared at him, and Bambam had to bite his lip to muffle the laugh that was bubbling in his chest.

“Let's get to the point, shall we?” Jinyoung said, voice monotonous and professional.

“Oh how you’ve grown, Junior. Should I call you Senior now?” Bambam smirked, slouching in his seat.

“Shut the fuck up. It's detective Park Jinyoung now.” The other man said, eyes blazing.

“Oh look at you, finally barking back. Who let the dogs out? Is the k-nine unit in here?” Bambam laughed, then he paused to see the Korean’s reaction, but when he did not get one, Bambam bared his teeth like a dog and gave out a soft bark, almost mocking the detective.

“Woof.”

“Maybe,” Jinyoung finally said. “Now I can be on the level of bitches like you.”

“Ooh, detective Park Jinyoung. Where's your professionalism? I don't think you can use this interrogation officially after all those verbally abusive phrases you've been throwing around.” Bambam faked a gasp.

Jinyoung shuffled his papers, fixing them in order of date, then he sighed. “I have no time for your bullshit, just answer my questions so I can go home.”

“What questions? You haven't asked me any questions though.” The red-haired boy said.

“You're impossible.” Jinyoung said through gritted teeth, and he could feel his face getting warmer and warmer as the rage and pent-up emotions rose in his chest.

“Aww look at you getting flustered.” Bambam said in a flirty tone, then he raised his foot and caressed Jinyoung's leg from under the table. The detective, however, had lightening-speed reactions, thanks to the police academy, so he grabbed Bambam’s leg and yanked it forward, causing the boy to stumble forward, harshly hitting his stomach on the side of the table. The coffee cup on the table shook with the impact, black liquid spilling from the sides slightly.

Bambam coughed a couple of times, but then he put on his best shit-eating grin. “Aw, chill, detective. Here, have some coffee. It's still bitter. Like you, and everything you do."

Jinyoung inhaled deeply, willing his lungs to inflate with the oxygen he was trying to get inside his system.

He knew that Bambam was gonna be impossible, but he had not realized that those 8 years apart changed them all, more than he had anticipated.

So, he decided to use another approach; the detective one, the one that he studied to pull, the one that he used on all suspects.

“Where's the money?”

“What money?”

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.” Jinyoung slammed his hand on the table, shaking the coffee cup more, making an even bigger mess.

“I don't know anything about any money, detective.” Bambam shrugged.

“I don't have time for your shit games, Bambam. Answer my questions.” Jinyoung said, his voice laced with anger.

“Who’s Bambam? My name is Bellamy.”

Jinyoung could not believe what was going on. Not only was Bambam being an absolute asshole, but he was also using the same answers as Jackson.

“Where is the money?” Jinyoung asked again, pausing for a second between each word, as if to emphasize.

“Money usually goes in the bank.” Bambam replied, looking at his nails and smacking his lips.

“Who’s helping you pull your scams?” Jinyoung tried another question.

“My imaginary flying-monkey.” Bambam giggled.

“Okay, let's try something else. You want evidence? Great, let's look at evidence.” Jinyoung said, ripping open the file in front of him and slamming the two sketches he has of Bambam on the table.

“That does actually look like me,” Bambam hummed. “Except the nose maybe. Mine is not that big.”

“This one,” Jinyoung pointed at the older sketch. “This is from a police report in San Diego, by a guy called Steven Mills. He said that $10,000 were stolen from him when his credit card went missing after he went home with this person. Which is you, by the way.”

“I've never been to San Diego. Heard the weather’s pretty good there. Maybe I should go some day. When Mark graduates, we'll go on a road trip.” Bambam looked like he was planning the dream road trip in his head.

Jinyoung gulped at the mention of the younger boy, but he swallowed down the bile and pointed at the other paper.

“This one is the description of a friend of yours,” Jinyoung said, and Bambam raised his eyebrows in question. “Kim Yugyeom? He sends his regards, by the way. He spoke very highly of you.”

Bambam’s eyes widened momentarily at the name, but he fixed his expression in a second and resumed his act.

“I don't have any friends with that name. Maybe he has me mistaken for someone else. You know, I heard that 40 people are born with great resemblance to each other. It's an Arabic myth or proverb or something.” Bambam shrugged again, and slumped back in his seat.

For the next 52 minutes, Jinyoung kept throwing questions at Bambam, and the latter kept dodging them with vague answers; ones that were the exact same, or very close to what Jackson had answered, and that irked Jinyoung.

“How are you two giving the same answers?” He angrily asked and Bambam shrugged for the nth time.

“Telepathy.” He then replied, smirking.

“You are two halves of a whole idiot.” Jinyoung remarked, and Bambam faked a laugh.

“Cute.” He threw in.

"Is this a fucking joke to you?” Jinyoung asked, pulling at the handcuffs around Bambam’s wrists.

“Do you see me laughing?” Bambam retorted, his expression falling to a poker face.

“Do you have no idea how bad the situation you're in is? This is fucking police business, Bambam. It's no longer fun and games.” Jinyoung spat.

“Well, you're right about the no fun part,” Bambam sighed. “I'm bored, aren't you? Let's change the subject. How's the wife?”

Jinyoung's ears rang with the question that Bambam had asked, but he had no time to reply because Bambam was speaking again.

“Congrats on her promotion, by the way. TA at UCLA is a great upgrade from the middle school teacher job she had back in Georgia. Also, Professor Kimberly is a great artist! Mark told me that he really enjoys her lectures. Hmm, maybe Amy might get to witness Mark’s brilliance before he graduates this semester.” Bambam's voice was dripping with venom although it was as smooth and sweet as honey.

“How do you know my wife?” Jinyoung asked loudly, standing up quickly, making his chair scrape against the floor noisily.

“Shhh, not so loud, Jinyoungie. You don't want anyone listening to this very personal conversation, now do you?” Bambam pouted as he threw the shady words Jinyoung’s way.

It then dawned on Jinyoung what Bambam had been doing through the whole investigation; he was making it personal, too personal- enough to make the whole interrogation sound like a personal vendetta, a case that would not hold in court, or even be considered an actual police investigation.

“You son of a bitch.” Jinyoung hissed from between his gritted teeth, his hands balling into fists at his sides. He tried pacing around to calm himself down, but Bambam kept talking.

“Hmm, where was I? Oh right. How's little Hailie? Heard she's starting kindergarten this year.” Bambam said, his voice dropping low and Jinyoung's head whipped in his direction. Bambam took the opportunity to smile innocently at him.

At the mention of his daughter, Jinyoung snapped. Without much thinking, he grabbed Bambam’s head and slammed it on the table in front of him, holding him down. Bambam’s face pressed painfully into the metallic table under it, but he smirked nonetheless.

Jinyoung was breaking so many rules, and it would all obliterate the case, guaranteeing Bambam and Jackson a walk-away card.

Jinyoung's fingers dug into Bambam’s neck as he brought his face closer to the other’s face.

“Don't you fucking dare bring my family into this.” He hissed.

“Why not?” Bambam asked, as if genuinely confused. “Why the double standards? You brought mine into it.”

At that, Jinyoung let go, as if Bambam’s skin was burning him. He looked at the red-haired boy whose lip had started bleeding, probably from the force of the impact. He wasn't smiling anymore, instead, his expression was murderous.

Jinyoung noticed his mistake; he should not have laid a hand on him, no matter how angry he was. Bambam might be someone from his past, but he was a suspect nonetheless, and touching suspects in interrogations is physical assault, and that's against the law.

The detective’s ears were ringing with rage, so before he could do something he would regret (even more so than before) he ripped the door open and stepped out of the 2 by 2 interrogation room.

He leaned against the wall outside, clenching and unclenching his fists to calm himself down.

Bambam knew his family, heck he knew details about his family; and while Jinyoung did not particularly love his wife like he should, he still cared for her, and Bambam’s threatening tone had left a sour taste in Jinyoung's mouth.

Jinyoung took a walk around the floor, trying to think of something to fix the problem he was slowly but surely slipping deeply into, but all he could think about was one word.

“Family”

It repeated in his head. His real family, the family he wanted, the family he had, Bambam’s family, what family?

It took him 15 minutes to get himself in check, and when he did, Jinyoung walked back to the interrogation room, only to find Espinoza walking out.

“Where were you?” She asked. “And why is the suspect’s lip bleeding?”

Jinyoung avoided her eyes. “I got too worked up. I went out to take a breather.”

“What are you doing?” Espinoza asked, shaking her head.

“I told you. I was-” Jinyoung tried to answer but she cut him off.

“No, I mean this whole thing, detective. Do you have a personal problem to settle?”

“No.” Jinyoung said, then told her that he had it under control.

He really wasn't sure, but he did not really care anymore, because he opened the door to the interrogation room, saw Bambam sitting there like the world has ended, and the war inside Jinyoung started again.

“So Mark’s your family now?” Jinyoung asked, closing the door behind him as Bambam looked up at him.

Bambam licked his lip to get rid of the blood that stubbornly kept oozing out of the cut, and he winced at the slight sting, then he said, “What's it to you to be asking such personal questions, detective? Last I've checked, you were interrogating me about the supposed money I hypothetically stole.”

Jinyoung rolled his eyes, then he said, “Cut the crap. I'm done carrying this around.” This time, his tone was low, a bit fragile, almost hurt and it seemed like he gave up on the actual purpose of the interrogation.

Who could blame him? It's been years since he saw Bambam and he couldn't help but feel nostalgic.

Bambam's defensive gaze faltered, and his stare softened at the sound of Jinyoung's almost plea; if anything, his voice was vulnerable and it was as if Jinyoung was the Junior Bambam once knew.

What's there to lose, Bambam thought. The interrogation has went to shit. Jackson is in handcuffs. Mark hates them. Jinyoung is breaking right in front of his eyes. And Bambam can only take too much.

He was tired. He was so, so tired.

“He is,” Bambam finally answered, imagining his boy’s smile. “Mark is family.”

Jinyoung's heart could be heard as it broke, well, at least in his own ears.

“A person’s bound to become family when you can't imagine your life without them.” Bambam then added and Jinyoung's legs could not hold him up anymore.

Jinyoung slumped in the chair, his arms coming to rest on top of the table as he hid his face in them. Bambam resisted the urge to caress his head.

Neither of them said anything for a while, but then Jinyoung sighed and raised his head, and Bambam could see the tears shining on his cheeks. Bambam's eyes tried to look any where but the crying man in front of him, while Jinyoung bit his lip and chuckled.

“It's funny,” he said, voice tear-struck. “How he's family, but he never knew anything you were up to this whole time. He didn't even know your real names.”

Bambam sighed, “He was family nonetheless.”

“And what was I, huh? A fuck-buddy? An entertainment? A way to let out your fucking kinks?” Jinyoung asked, as tears slipped down his cheeks again.

“I-” Bambam tried but he had nothing to say.

“I thought I was family too. Guess I was too wrong, because you had no trouble living without me. You just kept on your fucking scams because that's what you only care about.” Jinyoung said bitterly.

Bambam, still very aware that it was still an interrogation and he was on tape, stayed silent.

“Oh, relax, Bam, this tape is going nowhere but my drawer. I know about your cons. I know you haven't stopped. I know you probably won't stop. I know I have nothing to keep you here for, but I'm gonna try anyway.” Jinyoung sighed, slumping in his chair.

Bambam denied anyway.

“Don't you think it's fate? That out of everywhere in the world, here is where we both decided to settle down. It must be destiny.” Jinyoung laughed, but it was choked.

Bambam ticked his tongue. “Tsk, there is no such thing. This is just coincidence.”

“Think about it as you want. What matters is that we're both here now.” Jinyoung stood up and walked all the way behind Bambam’s seat. Bambam could feel him behind him, but his handcuffs were not long enough for him to turn around and look at him.

Jinyoung wanted to touch the boy’s neck, because he was so close. For the first time in _years_ he was so close, but instead, Jinyoung opted to sliding down against the wall until he was siting directly behind Bambam.

Bambam held his breath, anticipating what was gonna happen next.

“I loved you.” Jinyoung whispered, head slumped, looking at his hands.

“You shouldn't have.” Bambam said.

“But I did. I loved you both. You were my family, but I guess I never knew what family meant so I assumed that whatever we had was it. Turns out it was only temporary, like everything else in my life.” Jinyoung bitterly chuckled.

“We tried.” Bambam said.

“It wasn't enough. Do you know what love feels like, Bambam? With anyone other than Jackson? Do you know what it feels like when you love someone, heck, two people, and they both up and go at the same time, leaving you with nothing but a wad of money and no goodbye?” Jinyoung’s voice was wavering, and Bambam could hear him choke back sobs, but he could only think of Mark, how Mark had been crying when they had to leave him too.

“We had to leave, Nyoungie. You did not fit us. Not to where we wanted to go and what we wanted to do. Our life was not for you.” Bambam explained, but Jinyoung only chuckled.

“The criminal life, you mean?”

Bambam clicked his tongue again, “You don't get it.”

“No I don't, and you know why, but the high and mighty Bambam only needed Jackson. Guess you need more than just the broken boy, huh? Filling gaps with a naïve college kid? Is that it?” Jinyoung’s voice was laced with something that sounded too much like jealousy.

“What about you, Nyoungie? Does your wife know you're gay?” Bambam asked, not caring how he chose his words anymore. Jinyoung was messing with his family, and Bambam was not gonna let it slide.

“It doesn't matter anymore. I bet she knows I don't love her. But neither of us care about that anymore. I have a child now, and she's the only person in this world who I truly love.” Jinyoung said.

“For what it's worth, it wasn't easy for us either. But we had to do what we had to do.” Bambam tried, but Jinyoung didn't care.

“You know what I feel when she sleeps next to me? My wife, I mean,” Jinyoung asked but Bambam only sighed. “I feel wrong, because she doesn't fit me right, and she suffocates me but not in a good way, and that's when I think of you. And that's when I get so angry. Because that's the only thing i did over the past 8 years; I have managed to turn my hurt into anger.”

Jinyoung stood up, and placed his hand on Bambam’s shoulder, making the latter flinch and close his eyes.

Bambam knew that he had to end that conversation, not only for the sake of not exposing himself further, but also because they both have been carrying around that burden for far too long.

“What we felt towards you was not love, Junior,” he harshly said, and Jinyoung’s hand slipped off his shoulder. “You were convenient. You were...there, and sometimes, I needed your presence. We had to leave, to protect you, because you didn't fit us. We never meant for you to feel anything towards us further than what we made it seem.”

“What was it then?” Jinyoung asked.

“Sex, Junior. It was nothing more than you temporarily filling the gaps that Jackson was unable to. You were too fragile to hang out with two problematic people.” Bambam snapped.

“So that's what it is.” Jinyoung hummed, then walked forward to face Bambam. He was still tearing up, but he held it in. “Problematic? You've always been stubborn, Bambam. I always liked that about you, well, until you went along and shattered my heart with it. But I will fix this.”

“It's a little too late now.” Bambam said.

“It's never too late,” Jinyoung retorted, picking up his papers. “See you in court.” Then he walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Bambam let out a shaky sigh, then, without his consent, his tears began streaming down his face. All the bottled-up emotions just flowed, and Bambam let it all out. He was exhausted of what had happened. The past 24 hours brought everything that Bambam feared most in life. And it all dawned on him at once.

He looked at the camera that was on the table, facing him, flashing a bright red light.

“I'm sorry, Junior. We both are.” He said, because he knew Jinyoung was going to watch that again.

\--

Bambam doesn't know how long he sat there, but he knew it was too long. A police officer walked into the room at some point, turned off the camera and took out the tape, probably to give it to Jinyoung.

Bambam did not care about what Jinyoung would do with the tape. He had picked his words carefully enough not to expose anything they did; it was all personal talk, and it would hurt Jinyoung more if it ever got out to anyone else, so Bambam did not dread that.

As he sat in the stuffy room, metal handcuffs digging painfully into his wrists, Bambam could only think about one thing.

Mark and Jackson who was sitting some rooms away.

Another police officer came by a while later. “You get one phone call.” He informed Bambam, and the latter jumped at the opportunity. The officer walked him to a wall-phone right in the hallway, and Bambam dialed the number he had memorized by heart.

His handcuffed hands shook as they held the phone and Bambam waited for Mark to pick up, but he didn't. It went straight to voicemail.

“Mark, baby, it's Bammie. I-I don't have much time. There's a police officer standing a meter to my right, he's waiting for my 2-minute phone call to be over. So I only have less than a minute to tell you that I'm sorry, w-we're sorry, baby. We love you. God, we love you so much. We're gonna get out of here, I promise. And we'll find you, then we can start our life together, yeah? Anywhere you want. W-we'll fix this. Mark, we lo-” Then the monotonic beep cut him off mid-sentence.

Bambam sighed as he hung up the phone and the police officer led him to the same interrogation room where another detective sat, waiting.

Round, and around we go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! ~~Please do not murder us for any reason you would want to murder us for~~  
>  Late update because, 1) We had friends and family coming from abroad so we got busy with our respective families and 2) S had papers and reports and uni stuff.  
> So, we apologize for that, but we promise that we are going to wrap this up as soon as possible.  
> According to our calculations, there are two? more chapters left *cue excessive screaming*
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and to feel better about the suffering we put you through, listen to some of the new bops that have been dropping lately.  
> [Generation 2](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aQ4ewp14D0o) \- Jackson Wang (multiple hearts)  
> [Red Flavor](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WyiIGEHQP8o) \- Red Velvet  
> [Hi Hello](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D7c7rBv-FUU) \- Day6  
> [Cherry Bomb](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WkuHLzMMTZM) \- NCT127  
> [As If It's Your Last](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Amq-qlqbjYA) \- BlackPink  
> [Young & Free](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gfbRLbMuGSs) \- Xiumin and Mark  
> [Come Back Home](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2vJFn10XLQM) \- BTS
> 
> HOW ABOUT THOSE EXO TEASERS, HUH? They look super colorful and cool!  
> Also, JJ PROJECT ARE HAVING A COMEBACK AND JAEBUM SAID (in his Vlive) THAT IT IS NOT GOING TO BE SEXY/DARK BUT YOUTHFUL? WHAT?! 
> 
> Anyway, have a nice day/night/week! We love y'all.


	15. xv. Bloody Mary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Jinyoung fixates, he doesn't let go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! Unprotected sex. Mentions of alcoholism, mental illness, and the rest is angst.  
> Longest chapter we have written so far! Almost 9k words!

_New York, November, 2008_

 

Park Jinyoung had a file at Child Services as thick as the 500-page English language dictionary he always carried around.

“3 orphanages, 5 foster homes, 1 adoption, and you’re back here in my office.” The lady with the ashy-grey hair said, sorting through the thick file like she had so many times before. Jinyoung couldn’t be less interested in anything she was saying. He knew it all by heart. 3 orphanages (going on 4), 5 foster homes (he’s so glad he got out of them), and 1 _attempted_ adoption (it really wasn’t his fault, he would argue.)

“Mr. Park.” The social worker he was all-too-familiar with snapped her fingers to gain his attention that was trained on counting the “e” letters in the framed picture hanging on the right side of the woman’s head; it was a replica of the Declaration of Independence, and Jinyoung was trying to pull apart the “e” letters from the mess of cursive writing. He reached 56 before he was interrupted by the fingers snapping too close to his face.

The woman sighed. “Jinyoung, there are only a couple of months left before you’re out of the system, ca-” but she was rudely interrupted by the gravelly voice of the boy in front of her.

“6 months and 3 days.”

“Right,” The woman sighed yet again. “Couldn’t you wait 6 months and 3 more days?”

Jinyoung’s reply came in the form of a stare. He was adamant that it was not his fault. Not the orphanages, not the foster homes, and definitely not that stuck-up family he almost got adopted to.

“Your file is scary. You have a clinically diagnosed mental issue, you are not able to find a permanent fixture anywhere, and you are causing emotional harm to other kids. All the local places are not willing to take you.” The woman said, closing the file after pulling out a single paper out.

Jinyoung’s empty stare turned towards the framed picture again and he resumed counting.

“Luckily for you, a small orphanage down south has decided that it would take you. It’s a really small place, run by a lovely woman, and she said she had space for one more,” then she slid the paper in Jinyoung’s direction but he did not even spare it a glance. “We will transport you down there today, but before, you’re gonna have to sign this.”

“What’s that?” Jinyoung asked, but still continued counting. 116. 117. 118.

“A consent form.”

  1. 12-



“What for?” Jinyoung’s head slowly turned to peer down at the white paper staring back at him.

“If you continue your antics, the state will no longer pay for any of your expenses, and you will be dropped from the system immediately.” The woman explained.

“An expulsion from the system? Throwing a minor into the streets?” Jinyoung questioned.

“Call it as you may, Mr. Park. We have done everything we can to provide you with a decent living, but it seems you do not want that for yourself. I’m afraid this is your last chance, so be careful.” The woman then picked a pen from the desk in front of her and offered it to Jinyoung.

The boy only fixated on how the red-ish brown color on her nails was chipping on the sides, showing a shade of yellowy white bone underneath it.

“I know this is not the best deal, Jinyoung. But you left us no choice.” The woman sensed the hesitation of the boy, so she nudged the pen closer to him. “Sign the form, Jinyoung. It’s the final step before you go to your new home.”

Jinyoung plucked the pen from her hand with the tips of his fingers, then he counted the “e” letters in the form laying on the table in front of him. 34.

_Park Jinyoung_

He scribbled his name in black ink on the dotted line, and it felt as if he were signing his death sentence.

“Very well, Mr. Park. One of our drivers will transport you to the house. I hope this is the last I’m gonna be seeing of you any time soon.” The woman stood up, and walked towards the door to open it wide for Jinyoung. A man in a suit stood by the door with Jinyoung’s single suitcase next to him.

Jinyoung shuffled his feet towards the door, but before he could walk out, the woman’s hand rested on his shoulder.

“6 months and 3 days, Jinyoung.”

\--

When Jinyoung reached the other side of town, it was nearing mid-afternoon. The sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky, still cloaked by the greyish clouds, and Jinyoung felt like opening the car door and hurling himself out of it right there on the busy street. But he didn’t. Instead, he sank further into his seat, his dictionary resting on his lap, providing him with the slightest bit of familiarity.

The car ride took almost an hour and a half in the tight-packed traffic, and Jinyoung’s nervousness doubled.

He was going to have to live with complete and utter strangers for the next 6 months and 3 days (well, 6 months and 2 days if the traffic doesn’t move faster). You’d think that after the first 8 experiences, Jinyoung would get used to it, but he wasn’t.

His heart almost plummeted down to his legs when the car entered a small alley then parked in front of a blue wooden door.

Jinyoung peered out of the window to observe the place, Above the door, a sign stood, barely hanging on its hinges, worn down by age, paint fading from black to a dirty-looking grey.

_“Miss Vivian’s Home for Orphaned Children”_

Jinyoung sighed, but then the driver opened his door and waited for him to step out. With his suitcase in tow, Jinyoung followed the man in the suit as he knocked on the door and waited.

A loud commotion could be heard from inside before the blue door swung open and an old lady, probably in her 60s, smiled widely at Jinyoung.

“You must be Jinyoung,” The lady said in a sweet voice, and Jinyoung’s gut settled. “I’m Miss Vivian. Welcome home.”

\--

Jinyoung was assigned to a room with a boy named Bambam, but he was given no extra information about him.

“He’s not here right now. He went to run some errands for me. He’ll be back around night-time; you’ll meet him then. For now, why don’t you settle into your room, and I’ll call you when dinner is ready, okay?” Miss Vivian had said, and that’s how Jinyoung sat at the bed in the corner of the 4 by 4 room, staring at the ceiling, counting the black spots on the brown wood.

It was a room on the ground floor, at the very, very end of the hallway. It was colored a disgusting shade of blue, and there were two twin-sized beds on each corner. Jinyoung noticed the marks on the floor, like the bed had been dragged from next to the other one till the very opposite corner. Across the beds, there was a wooden closet that had one side open and empty, probably designated for Jinyoung.

He chose the bed at the left because the other one had crumbled sheets, an obvious sign that someone had been on it. Jinyoung assumed it was the Bambam kid’s bed.

A soft knock resounded on the door at around 7 o’clock, and Jinyoung was laying down, reading a page of his dictionary. His head shot up when the door creaked open, and he observed as a boy around his age walked in, with an expression that showed his disdain in clarity; like he would rather be anywhere but there.

“Dinner’s ready.” A soft voice came tumbling out of the boy’s mouth and Jinyoung had not expected it. The boy was tall, probably Jinyoung’s height, but his legs took up most of it. He had a mop of dark brown hair and a set of even darker eyes, but everything about him was soft-looking. His round cheeks, his plump lips, even his whole demeanor. (Little did Jinyoung know, back then. But now he knows that all that softness was hiding edges and curves that could kill.)

The boy left before Jinyoung could even say a word, leaving him to navigate his way to the kitchen alone; it wasn’t that hard, he just followed the noise. Bambam did not say anything to him for the rest of the day (or week), but Jinyoung was thankful for the lack of attention.

That night, when Jinyoung crawled into the new bed, he felt lonely, but then Bambam shuffled into the room, shut the door, and hid under his blankets. He must have thought that Jinyoung was asleep, or maybe he even forgot that Jinyoung was in the room, or maybe he didn’t care, because Bambam had his phone in his hand, and he was making a call.

It was a small flip-phone that could not really do anything except call and text, but Bambam marveled at it like it was the greatest piece of technology to ever exist because Jackson got it for him. He pressed some buttons before the unmistakable sound of the dial-tone echoed.

“Hey, baby. Are you back from work?” Bambam’s voice was low, but the room was small, and empty, so the sound bounced off the walls and Jinyoung could hear it, loud and clear.

“Hmm, a new kid moved in today. He took your bed, I’m sorry.” Bambam informed the person on the other side of the line. It was silent for a while, but then Bambam sniffled. “Yeah, I know. 5 and a half more months. I just- it’s harder than I thought. You’re always at work, and Miss Viv is catching on, you know. She turns a blind eye because she trusts us, but we both know she really shouldn’t.”

Jinyoung knew that he should not be eavesdropping on the conversation, but Bambam’s soft voice was keeping him company, and lulling him to sleep.

“Shut up, you know I can’t do that. It’s been three months only and I’m going crazy. I’ve seen you like what? 10 times only? That’s not enough, baby, I fucking miss you.” Bambam’s voice sounded choked.

“No, I’m not crying. I’m just- you know. Lonely.” Bambam said, and Jinyoung’s heart ached for the kid, because he knew how it feels like. “No don’t come over. Because there’s a kid sleeping a meter away from me, Jacks. Also, you suck at sneaking in and out, so Miss Viv will catch you before you even make it to the window.” Silence. Then a soft giggle. “It was pure luck before. Now there’s someone else in the room, it won’t be as easy.” A sigh, then another giggle. “No, Jackson. I’m not gonna leave you for anyone.” Bambam was talking to a boy? He was dating a boy?

“You fucking asshole, after everything. Mm-hmm, you better. Yeah, I know, because I love you too. Goodnight, baby. Don’t be late to work again, okay? I’ll call you tomorrow. Okay. Love you. Bye.” Bambam sighed as he hung up, then he shuffled under his blankets, and Jinyoung closed his eyes tightly.

The idea that Bambam was gay did not bother Jinyoung, partly because he was not raised according to any culture or mindset, so he was open to anything, and partly because he was not sure about his own sexuality. Who was willing to experiment with a 17-year-old orphan after all?

\--

Bambam did not speak to Jinyoung any word for the next two weeks.

The two boys, although the same age, did not seem to form any kind of bond over the two weeks that they spent together. Bambam was a reclusive kid; he would only speak to Miss Vivian out of everyone in the orphanage, and at night, he would speak into his phone in hushed tones, probably to the Jackson person. Or some times, he would sneak out. Sneaking out of the orphanage was not a hard thing to do because the bolts on the window were loose, that meant opening it would not make any noise, except a smooth wood-on-wood sound. The room was on the ground floor, and that meant that the window was exactly 3 feet off the ground.

On the nights when Bambam snuck out, Jinyoung would drift in and out of sleep tirelessly. He would shift and toss and turn because he felt lonely, and usually, Bambam’s soothing voice as he speaks on the phone would provide Jinyoung with some second-hand company.

For those two weeks, Jinyoung observed Bambam’s every move. How he spoke, how he stood, how he spent his time. Jinyoung had always been observant (that’s how he knew his family was gonna put him up for adoption), and he kept an eye out on Bambam.

The quiet kid hid his phone in a stuffed koala. It looked weird to Jinyoung that a 17-year-old would have a stuffed koala that he always kept on the bed next to his pillow, but he was not willing to ask about it, instead, however, he kept observing the other boy.

On rare nights, Bambam’s phone would chime with a text around midnight, and the boy would sprint out of his bed, change into his clothes, and dive out of the window. Jinyoung counted 3 of those nights before he got too curious.

It had been almost 2 months since Jinyoung had been in the orphanage, and the most interactions he has had with Bambam were the occasional nods, or good mornings and goodnights they shared. On the 4th night that Bambam snuck out, Jinyoung followed him. He walked in the darkness behind him, being as quiet as he could, until Bambam reached a run-down apartment complex where another person sat at the stairs; Jinyoung would safely bet that the person was Jackson.

Bambam ran straight into Jackson’s arms, and Jinyoung could see the other boy’s face. He was good looking, with sharp features and soft brown hair. When they started kissing, Jinyoung turned around and walked back to the house, and he slept alone under the cold sheets.

The next time Bambam snuck out, it was mid-January 2009, and the nights were cold and harsh, but the kid put on the most layers he could and opened the window slowly. Cold wind entered the room, and Jinyoung shivered, then he braced himself and spoke up.

“Bambam,” He said, and the other boy froze in place, one leg out of the window. “Can I go with you?”

Bambam almost fell at the question, but then Jinyoung gave him his best puppy-dog look and Bambam bit his lip in contemplation.

“Why?” Bambam asked, and Jinyoung shrugged.

“I’m lonely.”

It must’ve struck a chord with Bambam because the next thing Jinyoung knows, Bambam was nodding and telling him to hurry up.

The boys walked through the snow, hands buried deep into their jackets’ pockets. They shared a couple of words, mostly Bambam stressing about the importance that this stays a secret, to which Jinyoung said, “I’ve known you sneak out and have a phone for the past 2 months. I won’t tell anyone. Don’t worry.”

Bambam offered him a small smile before they continued walking, but not to the apartment complex. They walked downtown into a small computer café where Bambam told Jinyoung to stay behind. 5 minutes later, Bambam walked out with another boy in tow. He wasn’t Jackson, but someone else. A boy with the most intimidating stare Jinyoung had ever seen, and twin moles above his left eye.

He introduced himself as JB, in a deep and raspy voice, before he led the two boys into a beat-down car. They all shuffled in, and JB drove them to a gas station around 20 minutes away, where he dropped them off with some hushed words to Bambam before he drove off.

Bambam walked ahead of Jinyoung into the convenience store where Jackson was sitting at the counter, fiddling with a lighter. Jackson had the graveyard shift at the gas station as one of his part-time jobs.

When the overhead bell chimed, Jackson looked up with a smile, probably expecting Bambam alone. When he saw Jinyoung, however, he frowned.

Bambam ran into his arms, and whispered something to him before he pulled him towards where Jinyoung stood awkwardly.

“Jacks, this is Jinyoung, my new roommate. Jinyoung, this is Jackson, my old roommate, and current boyfriend.” Bambam introduced the two boys who shook hands. Jackson still looked suspicious, but Bambam kissed his jaw and told him to relax.

Soon enough, Jackson’s high-pitched laugh filled the store as he and Bambam cuddled on the floor, while Jinyoung sat across them, listening to their conversation about Jackson’s other job at a CD store downtown. Somewhere along the way, Jinyoung was telling them his story. They had opened a 6-pack beer case and Jinyoung downed half of it alone. With the buzz of alcohol in his system and his excessively bottled-up emotions, he told them everything.

“When I was 5, I was diagnosed with something called fixation hysteria. It’s a mental disorder and basically it means that I fixate on things a little too much, and I turn hysteric. It-it takes over my life, and back then, I was too young to control it. I used to fixate on weird things, like a bug collection, or counting how many seeds there are on a strawberry. My family, well, the Parks, were murdered, a house robbery, when I was 6, they were good people. My uncle took me in because of the next-of-kin bullshit. He was a wealthy CEO of some company and he was not okay with the fact that a kid on his name got kicked out of 2 private schools because he fixated on bullying some kid or something. He tried to get me treatment, but I was too young for medication, so he put me up for adoption. Fucking bastard didn’t want me because of something I couldn’t control. I got kicked out of 3 orphanages, 5 foster homes, and an almost adoption before I ended up here. They all didn’t want me because I got violent and my fixation is obsessive. I can’t function like other kids, and sometimes I hurt them. The state doesn’t want to pay for my very expensive treatment, so they are only going to give me one chance. If I get kicked out of Miss Vivian’s, I will be dropped from the system even before I turn legal.”

The boys listened to his story, and then, they told him theirs. Jinyoung cried that night. Sobs and wails leaving his body as he rocked back and forth. Bambam and Jackson tried to calm him down, but he only settled around 3am, when the alcohol in his system was replaced with black, bitter coffee (Bambam made it).

Soon enough, the boys welcomed Jinyoung into their little rendezvouses. He would sit down at the store, or at the apartment, and listen to them, or join the conversations, or even distract himself with the TV while they made out somewhere next to him. On nights when the couple wanted to be alone, Jinyoung would sit with JB in the living room of Jackson and JB’s apartment. They wouldn’t talk much, but they would raise the volume of the TV to drown out the noises coming from the bedroom, but Jinyoung could still hear the bed creak and the unmistakable sound of moaning.

JB must’ve been used to it, because when things get particularly loud, he would roll his eyes and walk out to the balcony. Jinyoung, however, would flame red and bury his head in his hands.

One night in late January, when the weather was super cold and Jackson was off work, the three boys sat in the living room, huddled around an electrical heater because it was the only thing they could afford. JB got caught in the snow and had to crash at one of his friends’ place. Jinyoung was curled in a ball under his blanket, and the couple were cuddling.

“How come you’re 19 and you’ve only been out of the system for 5 months?” Jinyoung asked when he caught Jackson and Bambam speak about Jackson’s “estimated 19th birthday”.

“I was born around late January, according to Miss Viv’s estimation, but she couldn’t enroll me in the system right away because of some legal issues she faced. It was 1990, the adoption system was shit, so by the time she got everything settled, I was enrolled around August. According to the system, I turned 18 in August 2008, but in reality, I turned 18 last January.” Jackson explained and Jinyoung hummed.

“When’s your 18th?” Bambam asked Jinyoung.

“May 15th.” Jinyoung said.

“Oh, that’s not too far from Bam’s. He turns 18 on May 2nd.” Jackson said and Jinyoung hummed.

“So, what are your plans after you’re out?” Bambam asked, and Jinyoung sighed.

“I don’t know. I might find my uncle and kill him, or maybe I’d become a police officer, like I’ve always wanted. Take him down legally or something.” He chuckled. (5 years later, Jinyoung arrested his uncle for fraud and money laundering in Long Island. Locked him up for 15 years with the biggest smile.) “What about you guys?”

“We’re looking for an apartment together. Maybe find Bambam a job, or I don’t know, rob a bank maybe.” Jackson chuckled, but the idea wasn’t that much of a lie.

Then silence enveloped them as they stared at the orange glow of the heater. Jinyoung was trying to count the raindrops on the window. 198. 199.

“So, Jinyoung,” Jackson then said. “We need to find you a nickname. Jinyoung is a mouthful.”

“What were you thinking about?” Jinyoung asked, peering at the older boy.

“What about Junior?” Jackson suggested, playing with Bambam’s fingers. “You know, cause you came into our room after me, and technically, you’re the youngest.”

It was the first time that anyone has ever given Jinyoung a nickname, so he grinned from his blanket burrito, crinkles forming by the side of his eyes, taking the other two boys by surprise because he had never done that before.

“I like it,” He said. “Junior it is.”

Around 5 in the morning, Jackson walked the boys back to the orphanage because his barely functioning Toyota (that he and Bambam bought with what they had salvaged from their petty scams over the past one and a half years) could not get onto the road without slipping on the early-morning ice.

When February rolled around, Jackson got busier and busier with his two jobs that they were only able to see him once (Bambam later discovered that Jackson was also busy with Jaebum, creating fake ID cards, learning the art of hacking and everything he may need to up their game). Bambam would sometimes cry in his bed when Jackson would be too busy to even call, and Jinyoung would lay there and listen to his quiet sobs because he was too afraid to do anything else.

It was one night in March, when the weather was getting warmer and Jackson was calling a little more frequently, that Jinyoung got one of his episodes. That night, Bambam and Jackson took him out to one of their scams. They were only testing the waters (and if their IDs would get them into the bar downtown). Jinyoung walked in with them using the extra ID they had. He stood far away from them, in an area where there weren’t many people. He could see how Jackson worked coyly, and Bambam flirted his way into stealing people’s wallets. Jinyoung almost ran out of there and never looked back, but he knew that no one would take him in like Bambam and Jackson did. So he stayed silent, and watched as the boys made $300 and some loose change. That night, they bought him a Bloody Mary but it was rigged with the strongest Vodka, (and then 2 others), that he ended up throwing up all the way back home.

At around 4am, Jinyoung woke up sweaty and breathless from a bad dream. His hands were shaking and he started counting the lines in the cobweb in the corner of the room. When he didn’t calm down, he pushed off the covers and walked the short distance to Bambam’s bed.

It was late at night, and Bambam was under his bed sheets, voicing his silly argument with his boyfriend in a very low tone afraid to give away any sign for Miss Vivian; if she knew he’s staying up this late, she’d definitely confiscate it. She was a nice, strict lady, and she would probably be doing her job. Regardless Bambam only had irrespective love for the lady.

Bambam was cackling on the phone with Jackson when he heard the sound of a creek that seemed to be the wooden flooring, so he stiffened a bit because he most probably gave away his cover under the sheets from the light illuminating from the flip phone.

However, a soft voice spoke up that made him slump and sigh in relief.

“Bam.” Jinyoung said, rubbing his eyes as he came closer to Bambam’s bed, the sleeves of his shirt engulfing his palms, and his plump lips forming into a pout. Jinyoung’s voice was mixed with sleep and alcohol, but Bambam did not mind it.

Jinyoung explained to Bambam the reality of his nightmares in a hushed voice, as he sat down on the edge of the bed. Bambam, however, very lowly and inhumanly disregarded the kid’s distress and only focused on how his boxer shorts fit his curved ass perfectly.

Jinyoung was a handsome one, and after Jackson’s excessive absence, Bambam started to notice. Not that he checked people out often, but he was too infatuated by his boyfriend and when he was away for too long, well, Bambam was bound to notice what’s around him more.

“It really freaked me out.” Jinyoung then sighed as he pressed his thigh above Bambam’s bed sheets, and Bambam eyed the way his muscles contracted under his smooth, tan skin.

“You’re an adult, Junior.” Bambam mused still on the phone with Jackson, and Jackson only seemed to chuckle at the situation. He knew about Bambam’s new ‘observations’ well; Bambam never hid anything from Jackson, and his newfound infatuation over Jinyoung’s beauty was certainly something he spoke out about to his boyfriend.

“I know, but I-I can’t sleep alone now.” Jinyoung said shyly, flopping next to Bambam and placing his head under the pillow, allowing Bambam to check him out properly with no worry.

“Seems like we’ve spoiled you a bit too much there.” Bambam pondered as he shifted under the covers to get closer to the younger, before he snaked his arm around his waist and brought him to all of Bambam’s proximity.

Jinyoung tensed up at the sudden approach, but soon after wrapped his arms around Bambam too, who was now patting his head and brushing the little bits of his fringe off his face.

“I never held anyone other than Jackson,” Bambam said, “But I like how you fit me.” He then breathed into Jinyoung’s ear, and the younger shivered.

Something about Bambam’s dark and low tone made him hyper aware of all his movements; something was definitely different about the way Bambam addressed Jinyoung right then, and he did not practically hate it.

Jinyoung was at his high prime now, overcoming the awkward stage of puberty, his skin clearing and his body taking on a nice curve to it. Jinyoung never paid attention to how he looked, but when he came into the orphanage, he noticed Bambam noticing his presence, although he never vocalized that. Now that they were closer, sort of friends, if not shifting to a little more, Jinyoung was extra observant of Bambam’s looks.

Jackson suddenly spoke up from the speaker of the phone and Jinyoung jolted up, noticing that he was still on the line with them.

“That’s my boyfriend, Junior.” Jackson said through the static of the line and Jinyoung could imagine the smirk that formed on his lips (lips he often found himself staring at- Bambam’s too.)

Bambam hummed over Jinyoung’s head. “But you know, maybe I don’t mind sharing.”

Jinyoung’s eyes widened, but before he could reply to them, electricity shot up the back of his head as Bambam slowly traced his hands from his hair, grazing his neck, all the way down to his spine; he drew lines on it before snaking them above Jinyoung’s cheeks then he groped them, squeezing them into a tight hold.

Jinyoung fantasized about moments like these in his sleep and even shower, but he never thought – he never would have wondered that any of the two boys would take any interest in him, mainly because they were too infatuated with each other.

Jinyoung was startled out of his thoughts when Bambam hovered over him, and he could hear Jackson’s breathing on the phone that was dropped right beside his ear, and just like that Bambam’s lips were on his. Bambam nibbled and bit at his bottom lip, his soft tongue grazing it a few times before crashing hard once again.

Bambam snaked over Jinyoung’s figure, and despite being thinner, he had all the control as Jinyoung felt like he was slowly melting with each of Bambam’s inappropriate touches. Bambam’s tongue pried Jinyoung’s lips open and danced around his mouth, the latter letting out a suppressed moan.

And before he knew it, Bambam was slowly undressing him, catching onto the hem of his shirt before yanking it up all the way to his neck. He placed sloppy wet kisses all around his stomach, trailing all over to his nipple before sucking hard on it and Jinyoung moaned again.

What drove him crazier was Jackson’s voice, guiding Bambam.

“Moan louder for us, Nyoungie.” Jackson sheepishly hummed and Jinyoung moaned from that itself, seeing how Jackson, regardless of not being there, was also affected by the display of affection happening.

Bambam chuckled seeing how sensitive Jinyoung was to his every move, and soon enough he was below his waist, pressing hot kisses on the inside of his thighs, Jinyoung moaning and twitching with each kiss.

It didn’t take much before Bambam snaked his sly hand to the edge of Jinyoung’s boxers, looking up at him before slowly lowering down the fabric inch by inch and it made Jinyoung whine at the slow progress, as he shot his hips up in order to get the boxers off faster.

“Patience, babe, why so hasty?” Bambam chuckled and Jinyoung groaned. It’s mostly because he’s waited for so long, fantasized about this way too much, but now his boxers were on his knees, his member bouncing across his stomach, dripping pre-cum.

It was embarrassing how much effect Bambam had on Jinyoung by doing so little, but at that moment, neither of them really cared- at that moment Jinyoung was finally getting what he yearned for, and a loud gasp escaped his mouth when Bambam’s plush lips met the head of his cock, his tongue skillfully licking the liquid and at that, Jinyoung threw uncontrolled moans which were silenced by Bambam’s free hand over his mouth.

“Tsk, so sensitive, our little one.” Jackson commented, his breath a bit shaky and Jinyoung was so close to the phone he can hear the slight strokes and sighs emitting out of it. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, and pleasure shot up all the way through his spine to the tips of his fingers when Bambam’s mouth devoured his whole length, tongue professionally swirling around it.  

He grabbed on Bambam’s hair for his dear life, and Bambam hissed through his dick which surprisingly made Jinyoung moan more.

It didn’t take long until Jinyoung was shooting white strings into Bambam’s throat, who took them like a champion (he probably shouldn’t have, but oh well). Jinyoung’s breathing was frantic and messy, and sweat beads formed on his forehead but Bambam shot up and kissed it anyway before leaning down and kissing the boy under him deeply, making him taste what was left of his taste in Bambam’s mouth.

The kiss was slow and deep and very sensual that Jinyoung was losing his mind. Bambam’s lips parted away from his and smirked at Jinyoung’s hot breath before looking him in the eyes.

“Your turn, Jinyoungie.”

-

It went on like that for a while. Soft touches and kisses in the darkness of their room with Jackson on the other side of the phone. Or when he was able to sneak into the orphanage, and sit quietly with them, and he would softly kiss Jinyoung but roughly do so with Bambam. It didn’t go past shy touches and some kisses until around a month later. It was late April, still a short time before Bambam’s 18th. He was planning everything with Jackson, getting ready to get out of the orphanage just for the sake of his lover.

Jinyoung was worried of what would happen to him after that. What would happen to _them._ But he said nothing, instead, he tried his best to enjoy whatever time he still had left.

One night, after they tried to sneak out but failed because Miss Vivian was up and was about to catch them, Bambam and Jinyoung ran back into their room, and in their haste to get into the bed in case Miss Vivian walked in to check on them, they both got into the same bed. Bambam was lying down and Jinyoung was on top of him, half of his body between Bambam’s legs.

They held their breaths when a shadow appeared under the door, but then it passed and they breathed. When Jinyoung looked up and sighed in relief, Bambam was already staring at him. They shared a kiss, slow and sensual, then Bambam called Jackson to let him know that they won’t be able to make it. While Bambam was halfway through his sentence, Jinyoung started kissing his jaw. It was a bold move on his part, but Jinyoung wanted more than just shy kisses. He was a boy with urges, and it seemed that Bambam and Jackson were willing to fulfill them for him.

Bambam’s breath hitched when Jinyoung’s hand stroked him through his pants, and Jackson asked what’s wrong. Bambam told him, and Jackson wanted to protest, but Bambam whispered something to him that Jinyoung could not quite make out. The phone was then shoved into Jinyoung’s hand and Bambam flipped their positions.

“Hey, Junior.” Jackson said as Bambam started unbuckling Jinyoung’s jeans. “You want him, don’t you?” Jackson asked.

“Want..you too.” Jinyoung breathed out and Jackson chuckled.

“I can’t be there tonight,” He remarked, “But maybe after you two are out of there, yeah? I’m moving into the new apartment next week.” Bambam’s hands were now barely touching Jinyoung, but his presence was so overbearing that Jinyoung could feel himself get harder only from the look in Bambam’s eyes.

“B-but tonight…” Jinyoung trailed off and Jackson chuckled again but it was a little dark.

“Tonight, Junior, my baby and you are gonna do whatever you want, hmm? And I’ll be right here.” Jackson was turned on by the idea; he was 19 and still in his prime, very happy to discover new ways and kinks apparently. (8 years later, he discovered that he really did not want it to happen again, but he let it).

Bambam took the phone from Jinyoung and put it on speaker, informing Jackson of what was happening. Jackson started throwing commands as the other two boys started throwing off clothes, and soon enough, Bambam was ready to take Jinyoung into his mouth, but Jinyoung, sweet, innocent Jinyoung, wanted more. He _begged_ for more, and Bambam was never one to deny such desperate requests tumbling out of the kiss-bruised lips of pretty boys (a theory that was later verified).

Bambam took his time to explore the wonders of Jinyoung’s body. It was a thrilling experience to him, mainly because he had never touched anyone but Jackson before, but also because Jinyoung was getting undone prettily beneath him, all curves and bumps and smooth, milky skin, and Bambam was being reborn.

Jackson voice was ridden by static, and the flip phone was placed somewhere next to Jinyoung’s head, so Jackson was getting a front seat to all the noises coming out of Jinyoung’s mouth as Bambam fucked into him like he had never done it before.

It did not take long before Jinyoung came undone, because it was his first time, his whole body wracking with the force of his high. Bambam swallowed his noises as he kissed him, and Jackson matched them from the other side of the line. At the sound of the two other boys, Bambam could not hold himself anymore, and that was the first time he gave Jinyoung a part of himself.

By the time May 2nd came, Jinyoung had latched himself so deep into Bambam’s and Jackson’s lives that when Bambam left the orphanage, he left a small note with the address of the apartment and his cell phone with Jinyoung.

On May 15th, Jinyoung woke up to Miss Vivian smiling down at him. “Come to my office, dear. We need to talk. Today’s the big day.”

When Jinyoung walked into Miss Vivian’s office, the woman from Child Services was there.

“6 months and 3 days.” Jinyoung said the moment he saw her, and she smiled.

“Right. You did it, against all odds. Now you’re an adult.” The woman said as she smiled slightly, and ushered for Jinyoung to take a seat. He sat on the couch next to Miss Vivian, across the woman.

“What are you planning to do now?” She asked him and he hesitated, but then he said, “My friends offered me a place to stay, with them. I’m gonna search for a job, maybe even apply to the police academy.”

“Bambam and Jackson?” Miss Vivian asked with raised eyebrows and Jinyoung smiled and nodded.

The woman nodded. “Are they good people?”

“The best.” Jinyoung said almost instantly.

“They’re good kids.” Miss Vivian said, and if Bambam had heard her, he would’ve fell into tears.

Both women proceeded to give Jinyoung lectures, friendly advice, encouraging words, but he only nodded along, thinking about the phone and the paper burning in his pocket.

At around afternoon, after the legendary last meal, Miss Vivian let Jinyoung go, with a hug and a motherly “come to me for anything” parting words.

Jinyoung collected his belongings into one bag, and rolled it behind him as he walked all the way to the address written on the paper. When he got there, no one answered the door. He waited for around 2 hours, and just when dread was about to fill him, Bambam and Jackson shuffled out of the elevator and greeted Jinyoung with hugs.

It was all sunshine and rainbows at first. Jinyoung would sleep on the living room couch most nights, but on other nights, he would sleep next to the couple, naked, sticky, fucked-out, and extremely content.

The pair did not stop their scamming, instead, they updated, with the help of Jaebum (who had given his name to Jinyoung somewhere along the span of the 4 months they knew each other). They came back home with wads of cash, sometimes jewelry that they would pawn, and Jinyoung was getting more and more demanding about it.

“You have to stop before someone gets hurt.” He would say, but Jackson and Bambam would assure him that it’s gonna be okay, that nothing bad would happen, that they were all going to be okay.

It went on for over 5 months. Bambam and Jackson getting more money, and Jinyoung getting more restless. He got a job at a bookstore to keep himself occupied, and save (very legal) money for himself. He did not stop nagging at the other two boys to stop their illegal activities before they get caught and end up in jail for the rest of their lives.

“How can you guys keep stealing when you know I’m working on being a fucking police officer?” Jinyoung asked them one day and Jackson raised an eyebrow.

“What will you do if you become a police officer and we are still thieves?” Jackson asked, and Jinyoung shrugged.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’ll look at the choices.”

“What if there were no choices?” Bambam chimed in.

“Then it would be you who left me no choice.”

Jinyoung’s words were final and they etched into Jackson’s and Bambam’s brains until they became paranoid about it.

Jinyoung however, did not see the effect his words had on the other boys; he was far too in love, or maybe, maybe it was just fixation. Maybe his hysteria was making him fixated on them. But no, his hysteria would not cause butterflies in his stomach, and chills on his body when one of them touched him.

He loved them, and he was planning to tell them, to show them, to see if they love him back.

He got his answer one day in early October, when the air outside was chilly and Jinyoung left work and stopped by the pizza place to get some pizzas. When he got home, it was eerily silent. The kitchen window was left open, and the small apartment had filled with so much cold air that Jinyoung was shivering. He placed the pizzas on the kitchen counter and walked into the bedroom to check if the boys were sleeping.

He didn’t find them. He did, however, find a fat wad of cash on the bed. At first, he did not touch it, but then he noticed the closet door creak from the wind still entering the house. Jinyoung walked over to close the door, but to his surprise, the closet was completely empty on Jackson’s and Bambam’s side. His heart dropped in an instant. He fished out his phone in a haze, and dialed Jackson’s number, but a lady’s voice said that the number is out of service.

Jinyoung called Jaebum next. He waited and waited and tried again, and again, but he got no answer.

Jinyoung finally understood what was going on, and he wrecked the whole apartment after that.

\--

Jinyoung stared at the white, dull building before blowing out a relieved breath. He’s finally here. After the horrid travelling trip of bad smelly bus stations and strangers drooling on his shoulder, he finally made it to Long Island.

It felt like a distant dream for Jinyoung though, but he’s finally maned up to do it; too bad it took a hard and aching heartbreak to make him get on his feet and chase the dream he always postponed. _Postponed for them._

It’s not like he could survive all alone in New York in the first place, being jobless (because that’s what happens when you don’t go to work for a whole week) and all- no one wants to hire a poor orphaned kid with no literal or proper education, anyway. He never went to school, mainly because he was never in one place for too long to go to one. He was only taught the basics at the orphanages. Anyway, not even a high school degree would be enough to land a job in the ruthless world of employment in New York.

Not to mention, that Jinyoung managed to flush the hefty amount of cash that Jackson and Bambam left for him, as if that could ever mend a broken heart. Screw them for even thinking Jinyoung would ever sell his forgiveness, that his feelings could be bought for any amount of money, regardless of how much it was, he wouldn’t stoop down to their materialistic, lowly level.

He tried to find them, he really did, but it was like they dropped off the face of the Earth. Jinyoung knew that they were using fake names to get around, and he knew that Jaebum was helping them- Jaebum was always helping them. But the older man was nowhere to be found either. They planned their leaving, and that killed Jinyoung even more. After fruitless looking for two months, Jinyoung’s hurt started lowly dissolving into something else. Something…darker, and he fixated on it. (For once, he was grateful for his illness.)

That’s when Jinyoung decided to up and leave; decided he can’t live in a place, a whole fucking town where every corner is haunted by their memory, and their touches. They both weren’t people to shy out of public display of affection, and regardless of how uncomfortable Jinyoung sometimes felt, he knew better than to protest against that, letting the judgmental stares of passing-by strangers pierce and burn his skin.

Now, Jinyoung was in Long Island with enough money to survive two months only. He was going job-hunting later that day, but for now, he had more important matters to attend to.

Jinyoung clutched his entrance paper between his hands, snapping out of his thoughts, taking in another shaky breath and letting his eyes wander around the nice green scenery around the academy’s campus. A little grin formed on his lips as a small sense of accomplishment warmed his chest.

Okay, round one? Complete. All he has to do now is ace and graduate from Chastler’s Police Academy, leave a good impression on his mentors and nail a proper internship, easy!

But to say that the past 3 years of his life were easy would be a completely cheap understatement. But he made it, with blood, sweat and tears (a lot of them), he made it, and it was probably the best moment of his life when the chief officer announced those that will pass on to receive a low-ranking job at the Long Island police station.

At that moment, Jinyoung couldn’t be prouder. He’s finally moved on with his life and can now be a normal, functioning part of society. He’s no longer an orphan, but a police officer, the new nickname he earned repeated proudly in his head as he went on his first mission, despite his sweaty palms and nervous awkward movements.

It thrilled him whenever he got the call, the sounds of sirens ringing in his ears as his favorite symphony, the red and blue lights twinkling in his eyes as he chased around the other police cars towards their target.

It was easy for Jinyoung to get a promotion right away, being the model and highly committed officer that he was. Everyone immediately took liking of him, and after almost 4 years in Long Island he found himself in New York again, as a full-time investigator at NYPD, highly paid and accomplished with his little parrot Rickie in his bachelor studio apartment. Until Amy tagged along.

Amy was everything good for Jinyoung and it ached him to know that he will probably not love her the way she deserves to be loved. At 22 years of age, Jinyoung was a healthy bisexual adult, looking for any proper chance or opportunity to commit, and Amy was perfect for his life.

She never complained about the little time she saw Jinyoung in a day, completely being understanding and supportive of her boyfriend’s passion for his career, but Amy was an accomplished woman herself too, being an A+ graduate from NYU, with a degree in arts.

It wasn’t long until Amy started moving her stuff into Jinyoung’s place. Jinyoung helped her move her boxes to his pad and unpack them- they did little of it that day though, being thrilled by the first big step in their relationship, making love at any possible corner of his apartment, at least that’s what Amy called it. To Jinyoung, it was just sex, initiated by Amy.

In retrospect, Amy had always been the one to make the first more. It was Amy who approached the Korean boy first. Jinyoung was completely engrossed in the files that were spread in front of him at the coffee shop table, little cookie crumbles on his cheek and all over the white, black imprinted papers that day, when he felt a body slowly but clumsily slump on the chair beside him, and he lifted his head up to see who it was. His eyes met the widest and greenest eyes staring back at him, a nervous smile playing on the girl’s lips while she blushed and tucked a loose strand of her blonde hair behind her ear, her mouth stuttering a soft hello. It was all a series of Amy’s first steps and Jinyoung’s blind following after that.

To say Jinyoung had gotten over Bambam and Jackson would be a complete lie. Ever since the day they left him, till about two month after, he cried himself to sleep, barely ate and rarely ever took a shower or participated in the outside world.

The warmth of his bed engulfed him fully, being the only source of restfulness and safety, as he gulped down whatever pain killers or sleeping pills that he managed to buy, or persuaded the downstairs pharmacist to give him.

Jinyoung felt utterly betrayed, felt small and low and unworthy of the space that he occupies in the world- somehow everyone in his life seemed to leave him with no problem, and the only explanation Jinyoung could find was that he was just not worthy enough for anyone’s time.

That was it, he was just not worthy of anything in general, in his head, he could never amount to anything and it was probably better for everyone to just abandon him, seeing how easily it formed into a pattern, for all the people in his sad excuse of a fucking life had done it.

He loved them, he loved them more than he loved himself at some point, clinging onto them more and more with every mindless murmur of sweet nothings that they threw into his ears, with every kiss and tug and with every shampoo scent and every piece of clothing they shared.

They were his life, he made sure to make them that, but he was naïve and let them get the best of him. They lured him in, sucked him dry until they got full and when they finally got bored of the taste, it was really easy for them to turn their backs on him.

It wasn’t easy for Jinyoung to move on at all, but it was really easy for him to figure their intentions out. It was very easy for him to believe that he was nothing but entertainment, nothing but another phase of their life that was so easy to drop.

Jinyoung was depressed, and soon enough, his depression transformed into a greater energy and he became livid. He became a destructive, angry being, and he channeled his anger at everything and anything, leaving him a broken shell on the floor of an apartment that wasn’t even his.

Jinyoung was alone in his life; he was alone and angry and soon enough he drowned his sorrows with cheap whiskey, or any alcoholic beverage he could find- anything cheap, preferably. His heavy drinking lead to excessive overnights at clubs he got into using the fake ID he still had, having graced the beds of strangers almost every night, leading on a destructive path driven by self-loathing and general hate for the unfair world, and the pathetic life he led.

Jinyoung’s wakeup call came in the form of a long and agonizing wait in a hospital ER one night, having caught the symptoms of an STD. He hurried to check himself that day and he was diagnosed with a minor case of HPV, he was lucky though.

The doctor took his chance to scold him, giving him a hard lesson about protected sex, and how he’s fortunate in this world, ironically, since his STD was only temporary and curable. With little help from medication, his immune system was more than capable and was responsible for fighting off the virus.

And that’s how Jinyoung found himself re-focused on his initial passion, his negative energy and rage pouring in on his studies and work effort. After his parents’ accident and his thief ex-boyfriends, Jinyoung knew in his heart that he would want to be a police man, to bring back justice for those who really needed it but mostly, to fight off his demons, and he became hooked. _Fixated._

After New York came Georgia, where Jinyoung and Amy got married in a church with only 10 people present (Amy’s small family and 2 of Jinyoung’s police friends). 2 years later, Hailie was born. A little bundle of innocence that took Jinyoung by storm. The tiny thing was the only thing that Jinyoung truly loved, and he held onto the small light she gave him.

Jinyoung did not want to admit it, but a year after Bambam and Jackson left him, he began collecting evidence, to find them, to arrest them, to kill them, maybe. But in secret, in the darkness of his dorm room at the police academy, in the bedroom of his bachelor pad, in the home office of his and Amy’s Georgia home, he worked and searched and named the case “Bonnie and Clyde”. It fit them, he thought, and they were going to go down just like them, he hoped.

Every day, he went out of his way to find the little pieces of evidence that were good enough to be set in his Bonnie and Clyde file, pushed way back in the filing cabinet positioned in his office.

After Georgia, Jinyoung followed Amy to Los Angeles, and he excelled at his job as usual, until his past came knocking into him like a hurricane, and he lost his grip all at once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find the BTS reference and get a virtual cookie. Or should I say...Kookie.  
> This is why I'm single.
> 
> This chapter was everything you need to know about Jinyoung's past, we hope it cleared things up.
> 
> S was a huge pain in the ass for us to finish this chapter. She kept nagging on me to write, and she even gave me the silent treatment when I missed the deadline she set! (I stayed up till 4am to finish editing, but it was worth it), now she loves me again ~~I think~~
> 
> Anywho, y'all know the excuses for the late update. S's finals and my family smh smh 
> 
> **The next chapter is going to be the last!** Yup, you read that right. Chapter 16 is going to be the final chapter! _crying_  
>  We're going to be extra careful with the final chapter so it's going to take a while for us to update. But it won't disappoint. You've been warned. Let's not cry now though, we'll cry when the next chapter is done. 
> 
> Our surprises:  
> 1- We are still going to post the Playlist we put together. we know it's cliche as heck, but it's a collection of songs that really fit the story, and some songs that we listened to while putting this baby together.  
> 2- Yes, we are going to collaborate on other stories (WE HAVE A HUGE LIST) and they are all original-ish ideas and ships and stuff. Look forward for that.  
> 3- The ending is gonna make you cry. Sorry, not sorry.
> 
> See y'all later!!


	16. xvi. French Chardonnay pt.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’m alright (I’m not alright)  
> I don’t miss you (I miss you so much)  
> \- [Don't Wanna Cry](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zEkg4GBQumc) by Seventeen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! Mentions of suicide attempts and intent of death/murder.  
> You can cry as much as you want to.

Mark was on a date.

It was a cliché dinner date with a girl who looked twelve but had so much makeup on that her face did not match the tone of the rest of her skin. Her hair was an annoying shade of platinum blonde that looked so dry that Mark cringed from the mere thought of touching it. She ordered a salad and ended up eating half of Mark’s fries.

Mark zoned out through most of the conversation; in his defense, she was talking about her shopping experiences and Mark could care less.

“Mark?” The girl called out, snapping Mark out of his reverie. He was looking out of the window behind the girl’s head into the street where he saw a black Mercedes and he thought about Jackson and Bambam. When he heard his name being called, Mark closed his eyes; it sounded foreign and cold, and it left a hole in his chest.

He cast his eyes down as he turned to face his date, and she sighed.

“I’m sorry,” he said before she could say anything. “I just- I don’t think I can keep doing this.”

The girl nodded with a sad smile. “Whoever you’re trying to forget, Mark, it’s gonna take more than just a couple of meaningless dates.”

Mark’s chest hurt. It hurt as he paid the bill and the girl gave him a goodbye hug. It hurt as he got into the second-hand car he was currently driving, the one he paid 2 paychecks for. It hurt when he started driving straight when he should’ve taken a left turn to go to his apartment.

“It’s been so long, Mark,” Youngjae said that morning. “You either have to forgive or forget.”

Mark wanted to do both.

-

It took him 30 minutes to get to the house, and 10 more minutes to get himself to open the front gate and drive up to it. It was 11pm on a cold November night, and Mark parked his run-down car inside the gate and continued the way on foot. The Mercedes was there, and next to it, was the BMW, both covered with mud and dried rain and they looked cheap and ugly and it hurt Mark’s chest more.

His hands trembled as he reached out to unlock the front door, and it took him a couple of tries, but he managed to open the door and walk in. The house was dark and cold before Mark walked further into it and by instinct reached out to turn on the lights and take off his shoes in the living room. He caught himself though, and he held his tears as he walked further into the house and stood in the middle of the foyer.

Nothing had been touched, everything was the same as how the cops had left it. Mark wanted closure, he wanted things to stop hurting, and right now, when he stood in the place he once called home, surrounded by the faded scent of vanilla and all the memories, everything hurt tenfold.

He was about to walk upstairs, but then his eyes caught the stairs leading downstairs, to the basement, and he found himself taking them instead. Surprisingly, the door was not locked, and when Mark placed his hand on the doorknob, it creaked open for him. He stepped into the darkness and felt his hand around the walls to locate a light switch, and when he did, white light flooded the room, temporarily blinding him.

When Mark’s eyes adjusted to the bright light, he choked. The room wasn’t that big, and computer screens and other devices covered two of the walls. The desks were covered with a thick layer of dust, and various papers were covering the floor. It looked like a storm had passed through, and Mark supposed it was Jackson who created the mess. What hurt Mark more, wasn’t the mess, but what covered the other two walls. The wall to the very end of the room and the one on its left were covered from ceiling to floor with pictures of different sizes, and Mark could see himself in almost all of them.

He walked further into the room and stood facing the walls, and he took in everything he was seeing. The pictures were of him and the other two boys, some of which he didn’t know existed, and others were his own shots. Pictures upon pictures registered in his mind, and with them, memories, those he had been burying in the darkest corners of his head for the past 5 months. Mark doesn’t know when it happened, but suddenly, he was on his knees, his tears racing down his face in waves. Everything hurt; his chest, his head, his limbs, it all felt heavy, and Mark knew it, he knew that this is what he had been running away from for the past 5 months.

He stayed in that position for what felt like ages but was actually mere minutes, just staring at the pictures through a blurry vision. He missed them, and no matter how hard he tried to convince himself otherwise, he still loved them.

When his sobs quietened, Mark stood up on wobbly legs and made his way upstairs after he pulled a polaroid off the wall, one he took of the boys sleeping on the living room couch. He stuffed it in his jacket’s pocket, and he wiped his tears with the back of his hand as he walked back upstairs. His legs were too weak to take him up to the bedroom, so instead, he opted to going to the backyard.

He turned on the lights, as he walked towards the pool that was filled with murky, dirty water, because no one had been there to turn on the filters. Mark felt bad for the pool, heck, he felt bad for the whole house because it was dirty and forgotten and lonely, so he walked towards the operating board and turned the filters on. The sounds of the machines filled the silent night sky, and slowly but surely, then once greyish water started turning back to an aqua blue. Mark listened to the machines come to a stop when the pool became clean, and when it became silent again, he felt hot.

It was a cold night, and the air was nipping harshly at Mark’s skin, but he was so overwhelmed that his body heat was higher than normal, so he shrugged off his jacket and took off his shoes, then sat at the edge of the pool and dipped his feet in the water.

The ice-cold water felt unforgiving on his skin, but it calmed his raging heart down, so he plunged in more. Mark doesn’t know why he did it, but he knows that he stood at the shallow side of the pool, and he kept walking further into the deep end until the water went over his ears, and the sound was so loud that it drowned out all the silence.

-

Jaebum received the call at 5 past 11 pm, and he was almost halfway across town.

“He came to the house.” One of his men told him, and Jaebum was pressing the gas pedal and taking an exit to the right.

“Keep him there. I’m on my way.”

It had been months since Jaebum started waiting for Mark to show up at the house. Under the request of Jackson and Bambam, Jaebum did not pursue the kid, but he waited for him to come back on his own.

“We don’t want to force him,” the couple had told Jaebum a week after their arrest. They gave his fake number a call, and pretended he was Kevin, a friend of Mark’s. “If he goes back home, it means that he is ready to listen. Don’t try to reach out to him, just wait.”

And wait he did. For 5 months, Jaebum had people keep an eye on Mark, and others to keep an eye on the house in case he shows up. It took time, but eventually, Mark did go back, and Jaebum was ready to set the records straight. He was so sick of seeing his best friends miserable, refusing any kind of help, and sitting in jail, giving up slowly.

It took him more time than he thought it would, but when Jaebum parked his car and was about to run into the house, his phone rang.

“Boss, he went into the pool, and he’s not coming out.”

Jaebum’s heart plummeted at what he heard, but he had no time to panic, so he took off running into the backyard where the pool is. He couldn’t spot the younger boy, so against his better judgement, Jaebum jumped head first into the pool, still fully clothed.

-

Mark felt so, so cold, but he didn’t stop moving forward, until his feet couldn’t touch the ground anymore. When the water enveloped his whole body, Mark’s lungs started yelling at him to resurface.

_It will stop._

He lowered himself to the bottom of the pool, and hugged his knees to his chest and he pushed himself deeper into the water.

_This will make it stop._

The sound of the water in his head was too much, and his chest was constricting, water filling his lungs instead of air, but Mark was drowning way before he even stepped into the pool.

_Please stop._

Just when his eyes started getting heavier, and the darkness behind his eyelids was being replaced by a blinding white light, Mark was pulled out of the water. The first breath of air made him gasp and cough so hard, he felt his lungs screaming. Mark was pulled to the side of the pool and hauled into solid ground before he could even see who it was.

“Are you fucking stupid? What the fuck were you thinking?” An angry voice yelled but Mark couldn’t focus on anything other than the fact that he was freezing cold. His eyes were looking at a fairly tall boy, with black hair and piercing eyes, but he couldn’t bring himself to even ask about who it was.

“Fuck.” Jaebum said when he saw that Mark’s lips were turning blue and his eyes were going out of focus.

“W-who are y-you?” Mark tried to say, but his voice came out screechy and barely audible. Jaebum heard it, and sighed.

“I’m Jaebum, there’s no time for introductions. We have to get you out of those clothes.” Jaebum hastily said as he reached forward to grab Mark’s shirt but Mark weakly moved away.

The name was familiar; it was the person that Bambam and Jackson called before the cops showed up, the person they trusted.

“Mark, if we don’t get you in dry clothes, you’ll die of hypothermia.” Jaebum sighed, but then Mark was crying again.

“Maybe I want to.” The younger boy whispered between sobs, and it even broke Jaebum a little.

“You can’t. Because if you die, I would lose my best friends, and I won’t let that happen.”

Mark’s tear-filled eyes glanced at Jaebum who was dripping wet and just as cold. He has a solemn look on his face, and his hands were balled into fists.

“Second floor. Last door to the left. The towels are in the bathroom.” Mark mumbled, because he still had the house memorized like the back of his hand.

Jaebum nodded before he pulled Mark inside the house and sat him down in the living room before he raced upstairs. He got a bunch of towels from the bathroom, then grabbed some clothes from the closet (from Jackson’s side, he assumed), then ran back downstairs; he couldn’t afford to leave Mark alone.

Jaebum found Mark with his knees to his chest and his head resting on them. He helped him get changed, and he ignored how sickly thin he looked, or how the hollows between his ribs were prominent from under his pale skin, he ignored how unhealthy he looked, and how miserable he probably was. When both boys were in dry, warm clothes, and Mark looked like he would rather be anywhere but on the couch, facing his lovers’ best friend, in a house he was willing to never step in again, with the aircon blowing hot air to heat the room, Jaebum spoke up.

“This has to stop, Mark.”

Mark looked impossibly small against the black leather of the couch that swallowed his thin frame, and he was eyeing the clothes that they were wearing like he wanted to hug them and burn them at the same time.

“I tried to make it.” Mark said after a minute of silence, and Jaebum sighed for the nth time.

“Not like that.”

“What else do they want from me? I can’t give them anything more.” Mark’s eyes met Jaebum’s as his voice sounded small.

“They don’t want anything,” Jaebum answered. “Just- just you. They just want you.”

“They had me. But, I never had them, not really. This life is what I deserve apparently.” Mark’s tears were silent this time.

“Mark, you’ve been sitting at home like a chump for the past 5 months. Going to work doesn’t count as living.” He was right, Mark thought; he had been living the same routine for almost half a year.

“I won’t ask why you care or how you know, but that’s how I want to live, so it’s not your right to question it.” Mark spat at him.

“The boy my best friends fell in love with was a successful photographer and an ambitious kid, what happened to National Geographic?” Jaebum scoffed.

“I turned it down.” Mark let out a sad laugh.

“What?” Jaebum’s eyes widened.

“I got the internship offer, but I turned it down. What’s the point anyway?” Mark sniffled.

“You’re an A student who could’ve done anything.” Jaebum felt like he was scolding his child.

“I graduated with honors, you know. My parents sat in the crowd and watched as my name was called but no one walked that stage. I didn’t see the point in going anyway, because the people I wanted most to be there were sitting in a jail cell,” Mark yelled, then said, “Why are we talking about it even? It’s too late now. They’re not coming back to me.”

“You won’t even let them explain.” Jaebum argued.

“What is there to explain? They lied to me, about everything!” Mark almost yelled.

“There’s everything to explain. Who they are, what they do, why they do it. Everything, Mark.”

“I c-can’t listen to them. Not now. If I see them I’d lose it, it’s too hard.”

“Then let me explain,” Jaebum said and Mark’s eyes softened. “Please. Just let me tell you their story. With no lies and no bias and absolutely no alteration to how it really is. Then you decide what you want to do with it.”

Mark stayed quiet for so long that Jaebum would’ve thought he’s dead if he had not been breathing and blinking.

Mark wanted closure in any form he could get it. He wanted to forgive, maybe forget, he wanted to love them purely until he couldn’t anymore. So he looked at Jaebum who had an expectant look on his face, and he quietly said, “okay.”

Jaebum’s face lifted into a tiny, relieved smile before he raked his brain to how the story starts. He had heard it a billion times before, when the boys were so in love that they wanted everyone to share it with them, and when they were drunk after a fight and wanted to remember how it started. He knew it like it was a book he couldn’t stop rereading, and it had so many titles, but Jaebum liked to call it “Jackbam” like his nickname for them.

“Jackson was abandoned as a baby. His mother left him in an orphanage is New York when he was barely a week old. His real name is Jia-er, we researched it and knew it’s Chinese. When Jackson was 4, Bambam was brought to the same orphanage. His mom was an illegal alien from Thailand. She sneaked into the US while she was pregnant and gave birth to him in the worst conditions possible. He was raised by her as she worked the worst kind of jobs, and when he was 3, the cops arrested her and Bambam ended up in the orphanage. His real name is Kunpimook. They grew up together. In the same orphanage, in the same room, and they had no one but each other. They even gave those names for each other. Bambam and Jackson. It had always been that way,” Jaebum started, and Mark’s eyes widened with the information, but he didn’t say anything, urging Jaebum to go on.

“They lived in poor conditions, because the orphanage was a tiny one, and they were being homeschooled with 10 other kids in a 4x4 room. When they were almost 16 and 17, they discovered that if they can’t earn what they want, they might as well steal it. It started with shoplifting, then it progressed to pickpocketing, until it turned into petty scams in bars and clubs. I met them before the scams started. I was fresh out of high school, a run-away from home, and I caught them trying to steal from me. It was amusing, really. Bambam looked like a child and he tried to seduce me. Of course, it didn’t work, cause first, I’m pretty straight, and second, he looked nervous as fuck. I bought them dinner and we kinda became friends.

Somewhere along the way, they realized that what they felt for each other wasn’t as platonic or innocent as they thought it was. They were each other’s firsts, and I watched them fall in love further. I watched them grow into one entity, kinda. It was disgusting at times, still is, how much they love each other. You could probably take away the world from them but they would be content as long as they had each other.

When Jackson left the system, I took him in. He got a couple of part-time jobs, helped with the rent, and started learning from me. I was going to college to learn computer science. I had a knack for hacking and stuff and Jackson picked it up. He was too smart for his own good, if I weren’t careful with him, he would’ve hacked half the city. In Bambam’s last year in the orphanage, Jinyoung came in. He was curious and Bambam was lonely and they kinda took refuge in each other and Jackson enjoyed it. Even when they got out and the three of them moved into an apartment together, it wasn’t right. It was a huge mess and what’s worse was that Jinyoung wanted to be a cop.

By that time, Jackson and Bambam wanted to expand into something bigger, and Jinyoung was breathing down their neck and they got scared, so they left him. He was already too attached to them, and when they disappeared he kinda lost it. I laid low so he wouldn’t find me, and the boys moved to Ohio. In a rundown car, and a couple hundred bucks. And that’s how they started. Scam after scam. City after city. Country after country. Identity after indentity. Going in, getting what they want, then deleting that they ever existed. I built myself too, hired people, you don’t understand the extent of this, Mark but between the three of us, we can buy half this city if we want to.” Jaebum chuckled, and Mark sinked further into his seat, so the older boy continued.

“It was all going great. More than great. Until Los Angeles. Bambam was supposed to scam some photographer but he never showed up, so for the first time in his life, he improvised. I don’t know why he did it, but he saw a pretty boy in an expensive suit and he didn’t want to go back home empty handed. Turned out the pretty boy was a college kid who drives a Nissan and lives in a 3 room apartment. And they were stuck because Bambam was enticed and Jackson wanted to make him happy and you fit them somehow. Watching them fall in love with you was so much different than watching them fall in love with each other. They became careless and they let their guard down and after 8 years of running from him, they fell right into Jinyoung’s arms.

Remember that fight they had? It was because of you. Because Jackson wanted to stay and Bambam was too scared and they both loved you too much. That night when you and Jackson were out, he saw Jinyoung and we all panicked because they had to leave. So they were gonna; I booked their ticket and got them new identities and when you were out, they packed their bags and went to the airport. Then the fuckers realized that they loved you too much to leave, so they dodged my men and came back here. Despite all the danger they were putting themselves through, they stayed. And Jinyoung caught them. I tried my best to get them out, to mislead him, to drive him away, to keep eyes on him, but it was too much and he was too good.

That’s it, kid. They stayed regardless of everything because you meant more to them than their fucking freedom.

They couldn’t tell you the truth because they were never supposed to stay. They were to leave a week after they met you but then you became persistent and they couldn’t say no to you no matter how hard they tried. By the time they realized they were in love with you, it was too late to explain the complexity of the situation. They wanted to tell you but I wouldn’t let them, and they were gonna tell you someday, but I guess they never got the chance.

Bambam is in a very bad condition, and a Jackson is worried sick about both of you, but they’re still fighting it because they want to apologize to you. Don’t you think you owe them that?”

Mark was definitely crying by the end of it, and for the first time in months, he felt weight lift off his chest.

Jaebum hugged him then. He pulled the little kid into his chest and held him there until Mark’s breathing evened out. They didn’t say much after; Jaebum only gave Mark his number and then watched him as he drove off, but he felt that he got through to him and it was enough.

-

Mark went to sleep that night with a heart heavy with a different feeling. In the light of everything he had learned about the boys, he was no longer feeling betrayed, just a little empty, and a lot guilty.

The next morning, he woke up early, and brewed the coffee before taking a mug over to Youngjae’s to have breakfast with him. To say Youngjae was surprised would be an understatement, because he almost called an exorcist on his best friend, but then Mark looked at him and with the calmest voice he said, “Hey, Jae. About your uncle, the attorney?”

And all was well after.

-

Jackson sighed for what seemed like the 5th time in the spam of 10 minutes ever since their 4th trial began. He rubbed on his stiff neck before taking in the sight of a sleepy and tired Bambam who yawned unabashedly, not really caring much to jury that sat in front of him.

“Why do these trials have to be so damn early?”, Jackson thought as he took on to pay attention to the routin-ish events that will go on in front of him. To think about it, it’s not like he was un-phased by the whole thing; it took a toll on him the way it visibly did on Bambam too, and he’s had enough of all of this over all, and it looked like he’s not the only one, as the whole jury in front of him began to roll their eyes once Jinyoung and the state attorney began to speak.

This case had been dragged on for too long. Jackson was confident they had their win on the table, but Jinyoung had managed to keep the whole thing going, providing whatever small evidence he could or pressing the law to his advantage, throwing them both in jail for 5 long and fucking miserable months.

If he wasn’t already in jail for their hypothetical con life (no doubt it was true but who can actually pin this on them? Not Jinyoung, that’s for sure), he would be for the murder of officer Park Jinyoung (which he addresses him with since he has no personal connection to him, the only thing the three of them unspokenly agreed on since it appealed to everyone’s advantage).

Jackson made a mental note on his to-do list (after they’ve been set free of any charge, that is) to find a way to end Jinyoung’s life. If it were up to him, he would prefer him chopped into pieces and thrown to the stray dogs that roamed LA at night, and he thinks Bambam would actually agree, seeing how his state burned maliciously into Jinyoung whenever he spoke.

“This is the fourth trial set to date in these past 5 months and yet you have not been able to provide any physical evidence on the convicts, go ahead and tell the jury why this isn’t a waste of everybody’s time,” The defense attorney chimed in, high and confident, as he addressed Jinyoung and his attorney before he turned around to face the active judge, the senior judge being non-present as this case was now invalid for lack of evidence and thus pushed down to an “alternative dispute resolution”, something Jinyoung should’ve taken as a hint, but apparently it failed to be his demotivator.

“Your honor and said Acquittal, this case has been dragged on for months and not any convincing admissible evidence was set on this table in front of us.” he added and he looked at one of the jurors in front of him, who gave a nod in agreement and looked Jinyoung’s way, who was still pretty much restless.

“Officer Jinyoung, your passion for justice is appreciated, and the evidence provided was enough for an appeal, however, the arraignments do not plead guilty and you have not provided us with anything further to prove them so, thus, I’m ending this trial with an assume and a year of parole, respecting your requests for proper surveillance.”

Jackson sucked in a breath before the judge continued, “In the name of the Los Angeles Superior Court and under the US constitution, I hereby dismiss this trial for the arraignments are not found guilty. No other briefs will be accepted here on, for no burden of proof was provided and thus no bail will be charged.”

Jackson could have sworn time froze in front of him as the judge’s gravel swung up in the air before knocking on the wood that was spread under it. That was it, they were set free and he couldn’t believe it, swinging his face to process the information with the now really thin lover that stood beside hm.

Bambam was wide-eyed, the first emotion or genuine reaction Jackson has seen him do for all the months that they stayed in jail in. Ever since their first trial, when Jinyoung’s appeal managed to land them in custody, the former confident Bambam seemed to wither away, the senior judge’s words hitting them both right in their chests, and Jackson knew it will be tough from there on out.

And he was right, for 5 fucking month, he laid his head on the un-familiar, stiff pillow surrounded by the un-familiar faces of the inmates who shared his cell, Bambam, of course, being put in another cell.

The only time he could see him was lunch hours and when they were allowed out to the yard once a week, or in the showers, the once familiar smell of him quickly turning to that of the scentless soap, and the grime of the jail cells they were forced to settle in. Bambam barely reciprocated however, and they were both unable to support each other.

The only time they were actually able to lay hands on each other, were the rare times when the nice guard would pretend not to notice when they both snuck into one shower stall, touching each other eagerly and passionately, the only sounds exchanged being the small, muffled wails that Bambam let slip of his mouth as he cried on his boyfriend’s chest.

Jackson had to be tough for him, he had to be tough for the both of them, and he even had to be tough for Mark. For the whole months they were there, they haven’t heard anything from him. They tried everything to get a response from the younger, but nothing worked. They called him with every weekly call they were privileged with, gave Jaebum’s men who visited once a month the many notes and letters they could write in there to mail out to him, but yet, Mark did not reply to any of them, did not pick up the phone or check up on them despite them sending their visiting schedule.

At some point in their third month, Bambam gave up trying to reach out to Mark, however, Jackson did not. He kept calling him and kept sending the most letters he can. Mark had to come through at some point, he just had to- for them, for the love they shared. He had to realize, one day, that what they had was genuine and pure, and forever. Jackson never knew he’d be out for disappointment.

For the whole time he was there, Jackson stayed on his feet, despite the struggle of being away from Bambam, every chance he got to stand by him was another ordeal of keeping Bambam strong too. They both became physically weak, eating the least and sleeping so little. They both had nightmares almost every night, and even though they knew they had them, they kept them unspoken for their little time together was precious and was spent wisely.

-

Jinyoung settled his usual coffee on the table in front of him, sitting down as he faced both of his precious verdicts, smirking at the once lively lovers that he had. They looked weaker, beaten down, and Jinyoung didn’t know if he should feel victorious or guilty, a pang of pain welling up in his chest as he saw how little the two reciprocated, looking white, thin and over all sleep-deprived. But regardless of their mental and physical state, they never broke down nor caved in to his attempts, and his frustration built up with each interrogation, to the point where he knew he had to go personal.

“You know, Miss Vivian would be pretty disappointed to discover that her little precious kids are thrown in jail for their crimes.” Jinyoung smugly said in a melodic tone.

“Custody you mean.” Bambam quickly snapped but before he could continue, Jackson’s bitter laugh danced across the interrogation room, taking them both by surprise, and for some reason Jinyoung tensed around the stares that the two were giving him.

“I think she would be more disappointed to know that her other little precious kid is oblivious of her death.” Jackson spat at Jinyoung, leaning further in his chair, raising an eyebrow as his amused eyes fixated their stare on Jinyoung.

If that weren’t enough for Jinyoung to choke on, Bambam threw in more words for him to process as he set both his hands on the table, reaching as much as possible with his chained hands to throw the papers that were in front of the youngest. “You’re one piece of shit, you know? Not even knowing about the death of the only person who was the closest to being a mother to you. If you weren’t so fixated on this dumb shit you’re pulling, you would have been onto the things that truly matter.”

That day was also the day when Jackson and Bambam got the last word from Jaebum, when he sent yet another one of his men, pledged as a friend, to visit them. As they sat in the visiting room, faking concern towards each other, he told them that they have hired an attorney for them, and despite Jackson and Bambam declining, the man already took on their case for the next court trial.

When they asked who set them up with him, the man told them that he himself had no idea, however, he knows that Jaebum wasn’t the one who reached out to him, but it was the other way around, as Jaebum was informed by one of his men that the attorney requested to talk to the verdicts.

“Choi Sung-min,” The man said, “A high-class defense attorney.” At the familiar Korean surname, Jackson and Bambam shot up, for they knew who exactly the man was because their boyfriend had mentioned it in a story or two, and Bambam half whispered Mark’s name under his breath as he looked Jackson in the eyes.

When shower time came around, and the nice officer pretended not to notice when they stumbled into the same stall, both of them were a mess. Both hopeful yet scared of what the news they got would mean about them and Mark, or even their chance of leaving this reality they call hell. Bambam’s wails were louder that time, as he clung his naked body to Jackson’s, letting out a little whimper as his head rested on Jackson’s shoulder before he whispered, “I wish I could just die, maybe all of this would just end”.

At that day too, Jackson, and for the first time, cried along with his lover.

A week later, they got out.

-

“Sign here, and here.” The woman in the police uniform pointed at the dotted lines of the papers as Bambam’s weak hand picked up the pen and scribbled his name haphazardly.

“Here are your things. Congratulations.” She slid a plastic zip-lock bag towards Bambam as she smiled at him. He picked up his things quietly as he walked with another officer towards the exit, hand-cuff free.

Before stepping out, however, he stopped.

“Why’d you stop?” The officer asked.

“I’m waiting for my boyfriend.” Bambam weakly said, but before the officer could say anything, footsteps were heard and Jackson appeared next to an officer as he steadily walked towards his boyfriend.

Bambam’s tears broke out as Jackson wrapped him in a hug. “You kids can hug each other outside of this depressing place.” The officer said as he opened up the metal doors with a key and ushered the boys out.

Hand in hand, Jackson and Bambam stepped outside of the prison building, squinting at the afternoon sun that shone in their eyes. The guards at the gates let them out as they congratulated them, and the couple smiled as they stepped into the street. Across from where they stood, the boys saw a familiar figure lean against a black car, and they both took off running into the boy’s arms.

“Welcome back, boys,” Jaebum laughed as he squished both boys in a bone-crushing hug. “You look like you’ve seen better days.”

“Shut up, Bum.” Jackson shoved the older boy lightly as the couple climbed into the backseat and Jaebum into the passenger seat because of course, he had a driver.

“So, where to now?” Jaebum asked, careful not to say something else.

Bambam, still weak and wan, glanced over to Jackson even from his position, snuggled up on his chest. Jackson sighed, then he said, “I think it would be best if we go ho- to the house, because we’re still under surveillance, and a hotel would be suspicious.”

Jaebum hummed. “You’re right,” then, “I’ll drop you off before I go to work. I have a meeting at 4.” It was already 3:20.

In fact, Jaebum did not have a meeting or even work, he did, however, know that Mark was at the house (he had been there for a week now), and he wanted to give the three of them some privacy.

“You spoke to him, didn’t you?” Bambam asked.

“He came by the house.” Jaebum provided no extra explanation; he certainly wasn’t going to tell them their boyfriend almost drowned himself.

“And the attorney? Youngjae’s uncle. It was him, wasn’t it? Mark?”

Jaebum hummed in confirmation and the conversation stopped there.

When the driver parked the car in front of the house, Jaebum exited with the couple in tow, and he gave them both hugs before he said, “We cleaned the house, made the beds, stocked the fridge, and made sure that everything would be comfortable for you. Settle down and get some rest, okay? Don’t call me for a week, just sleep it off, fuck it out, and eat till you can’t move, you get it?”

“Yes, dad.” Both boys said in unison before Jaebum chuckled and drove off.

The boys heaved sighs as they unlocked the front door and stepped inside. Everything was in order, how they left it. They took off their shoes in the living room like they usually do, and they put their keys in the bowl on the kitchen counter (failing to notice the other set of keys that had fallen behind the bowl). Both boys teared up as they roamed around the familiar place, and as they climbed the stairs to go to their bedroom, their hearts skipped a beat.

The door to their bedroom was closed, and unlike the rest of the house, the lights were on. Bambam’s breath hitched as he glanced at Jackson who was already looking at him. Jackson had the “what do we do now?” look on his face, but before either of them could say anything, Bambam was leading the way to the closed door. With shaking hands, Bambam reached forward and slowly pushed the door open.

There, in the middle of the king-sized bed, in one of Jackson’s oversized hoodies, and a pair of basketball shorts, was a thin boy, clutching Bambam’s stained shirt, and sleeping soundly, small snores escaping his mouth. Jackson and Bambam clutched each other because their legs could not hold them anymore, then they carefully walked towards the bed and just stared at the kid as his chest rose and fell with steady breaths.

Mark’s legs were exposed to the cold, because as usual, he had kicked the covers off him, so softly, Jackson reached out for the sheets and pulled them over Mark’s body, and then a pair of chocolate-brown, doe eyes were looking at him.

Mark looked like a deer caught in headlights, and he stopped breathing for a second as his eyes adjusted to the very thin and weak-looking boys in front of him. Both of them looked like shells of themselves; the once bright and healthy couple now looked ashen and miserable, so Mark did the only thing he could think of: he opened the covers, scooted to the middle of the bed, right where he belonged, then he rested his head on the pillow again and closed his eyes.

It was an open invitation, and if Bambam and Jackson weren’t too busy being shocked and grateful, they would’ve cried (more than they already were, that is). So hesitantly, Jackson climbed into the right side of bed while Bambam climbed into the left, and the three boys fell asleep like that.

(They woke up in a mess of limbs, arms clutching into each other and scents mixing, but it wasn’t awkward, because Mark smiled at them and asked about dinner.)

(They all cried then.)

\--

Jinyoung felt impossibly empty and light.

The _Bonnie and Clyde_ case was closed forever, and Jinyoung took time to reflect on everything.

He knew he was sick, but he let his sickness take over the rational part of him, and it consumed him. After the trial, after they were set free, Jinyoung never heard of Jackson and Bambam ever again; all he had was the interrogation tapes and he locked them with the rest of the case files somewhere far and unreachable.

And he let go.

One night, months after, when Jinyoung came back home early from work and his daughter was asleep, he realized something very important. This, what he had now, his wife and daughter, it was the best thing that he could ever have, and he was grateful. So that night, he asked his wife out on a date.

“Now? Why?” Amy asked, shocked. She would have never seen it coming.

“No particular reason,” Jinyoung said, kissing her forehead. “I just love you.”

Amy’s mouth opened and closed before Jinyoung chuckled and pecked her lips.

“I love you too.”

\--

_2 years later_

 

“Just wait by the coffee shop, okay? I’m coming to pick you up. No, I won’t be late. I literally need 5 minutes, the maximum. It’s Christmas, babe, stop being so grumpy. Well, there was traffic, and I had to drop off the other two babies at home. What? Of course not. Christ, baby, stop being so childish. Okay, now let me drive. Fuck you too, but I love you. And yeah I will when we get home.”

Jackson rolled his eyes as he hung up the phone and drove as fast as he could (within the speed-limit, of course), to get to the airport. When he got there, he found who he was looking for sitting on a suitcase, wrapped up in a coat bigger than him, and huffing because he _hates_ waiting.

When he spotted Jackson, however, Mark forgot that he was so annoyed at him, and he ran towards him in record-speed, throwing his arms around his neck in a hug.

“I missed you too, baby.” Jackson chuckled as his arms held Mark’s waist in place, then he gave his boyfriend a kiss on the lips in front of everyone. It was Paris, after all, the city of love.

“How was Ghana?” Jackson asked once they were both in the car.

“Hot. And there were too many insects, oh my lord. But we got the job done, and I have a 2-month vacation, heck yes.” Mark giggled as he settled back against the seat, his hand finding Jackson against the center console like it usually does.

“Finally, you can’t believe how much we’ve missed you. Bambam’s been nagging like a child for the past 3 weeks while you were gone. I was gonna buy him a ticket to Ghana, I swear to God.” Jackson chuckled.

“Of course, my little baby missed me more than my big baby, but that’s okay.” Mark fake pouted but Jackson raised their interlinked hands and kissed the back of Mark’s.

“Shut up, Markiepoo. You know damn well I missed you just as much, but I know you’re working hard so I square up.”

Mark reached over to caress Jackson’s face, and the older boy leaned into it. “I know, baby, I was just kidding.” Mark was working as a photographer for NatGeo Wild. His dream did come true, and it was all thanks to his hard work and talent.

It took the three boys a couple of months to talk everything out and settle back into their lives, but they all loved each other too much, and no matter how much it hurt, they fought through it, and fell into a routine in Los Angeles. Mark sold his BMW and donated it to charity, a small orphanage in the suburbs of Los Angeles, without saying anything to the boys, but they knew.

A year later, they decided to move. Youngjae’s uncle told them that it’s okay, that travelling to live somewhere outside the US was legal, and so they did. They gathered everything, threw a dart at the map (well, actually, Jackson literally walked up to the map and pinned the dart where he wanted), and ended up in Paris, France, in an apartment they bought with the heaps of money they still had.

Although the boys still had enough money to live comfortably for years without having to lift a finger, they all decided that they wanted to pursue their dreams.

Mark called back to check if the internship opportunity was still open, and he was elated to find out that it was his for the taking. He got offered a job at National Geographic right after his internship there ended, and of course, he took it.

Bambam opened a small boutique in the suburbs of Paris. It was a small shop but he loved it, and he worked his ass off to build a name for himself. Now, he sometimes takes jobs as a personal stylist for some important names.

Jackson and Jaebum joined mastermind powers to take over the dark web- okay not really, they just joined funds to found an IT company. It was still being established, but both boys were geniuses and they built a company revolving around what they loved most.

“Are you sure nothing’s illegal?” Mark had jokingly asked Jaebum one day when him and Jackson were having a meeting about the company. Jackson and Bambam stiffened, but then Mark giggled as Jaebum poked his side and said, “It’s okay. I’ll write it in your name and it will all be on you.”

Mark gasped as he snuggled more into Jackson’s side and muttered, “rude” as Bambam kissed his hands. Mark and Jaebum got impossibly closer after Jackson and Bambam got out, and the boys found it a little weird but didn’t question it. (They later found out why and cried about it for two days, but they were so grateful for their best friend that they bought him a life-time supply of strawberry milk- his favorite.)

Mark travelled a lot, and the other two boys missed him terribly, but now he was home for Christmas and they had big things planned. When Jackson parked the car, Mark almost took off running, but he didn’t because Jackson threatened him, so hand-in-hand, both boys made their way up to their apartment on the 7th floor.

Bambam opened the front door the moment he felt the elevator arrive, and he ran out of the apartment and straight into Mark’s arms, showering him with kisses and “I miss you’s”. Diego also greeted Mark with hugs and kisses- well, hugs and licks. Diego was their 5-months old American Staffordshire Pit Bull puppy. He had golden fur and green eyes; the boys had adopted him because Jackson and Mark had baby fever one day and they all knew that adopting a human baby was nearly impossible, so they settled for another kind of babies. They picked Diego because he was a sad puppy whom no one wanted because his breed was the most aggressive, and the three boys knew that he would grow up into a little monster, but they had a hero-complex and ended up adopting him. He did prove to be monstrous when he teared two of his beds, but the boys forgave him after he got them dirty socks as an apology- his favorite toys.

They were a mismatched but extremely happy family of 4, and it got so messy sometimes that Bambam had to double on the dozes of medicine, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

2 nights later, on Christmas eve, when Bambam was returning back from the kitchen with a bottle of French chardonnay in hand, he saw Jackson and Mark cuddled up on the couch, their bodies melting together, and Mark was in an oversized pink sweater, his brown hair freshly dyed, and Bambam was knocked back to their first date on that rooftop, when he sat facing a naïve college kid and asked one questioned that remained unanswered until then.

What if the Greeks were wrong? What if they were wrong when they said that humans were born with 4 legs and 4 arms but one heart, and they were later split in two parts that made soulmates? What if some of them were split into 3? Because at that moment, when Jackson and Mark looked up at him and made space for him between their limbs, Bambam knew that those two boys were his soulmates in all meanings the word could hold, and that they would never be whole, not as one, or two, but only as three.

So, yeah, maybe Bonnie and Clyde died young because they were only two, maybe they needed someone else to keep them even- or odd. Maybe that someone would’ve been a cute college kid who likes all things sweet.

Maybe it could’ve been Bonnie, Clyde, and the college guy, and it sounded pretty amazing to Bambam.

 

_FIN._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It would be a good idea to read the lyrics to this amaaaaazing song that we have been replaying for two months- [here](https://colorcodedlyrics.com/2017/05/seventeen-don-t-wanna-cry-ulgo-sipji-anha)
> 
> IT'S OVER HALLELUJAH!!!!!!!! OMG WE CRIED I PROMISE.
> 
> Our baby is finally complete. We're halfway between sad and relieved, but this is it. 
> 
> *fun facts about this chapter*  
> 1) I had to sit in the bathroom to write the last couple of parts because it was midnight and I had to be on the phone with S to manage the chapter.  
> 2) My dog really is an AmStaf Pit Bull named Diego, but he is almost 2 years old. My baby boy is the cutest fluff ball I swear.  
> 3) We cried more than once while writing/reading/rereading.
> 
> Catch us in other collaborations and give us sooooo much love. 
> 
> Lastly, thank you so much for the immense love and support that you have given us through this whole story. We're insanely grateful. **a billion hearts**
> 
> **We are gonna post a surprise and the playlist. Click next chapter.


	17. xvii. Bonus + Playlist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonus scene + the promised playlist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! I won't have time to hyperlink the songs, and Spotify does not exist in our country lmao so you have to go to Youtube and listen to those songs but you will love them I promise.

**_BONUS_ **

 

 

“WAKE UP, YOU LITTLE COLD CORN DOGS. WE WILL BE LATE.” Mark barged inside the room in panic as he tried to fit his head inside his shirt only to realize it’s Bambam’s. He sighed before throwing it on the bed where the two sleepy men grumpily groaned and buried each other further under the sheets.

“If we ignore him long enough, he’ll leave.” Jackson whispered to Bambam who had his face resting on his chest, to which Bambam giggled as Mark let out a hurt gasp. “No, we have to get up we promised him.”

Jackson let out a breathy whine before stripping the sheets off their bodies, getting up to grab Diego who barged in the room barking in favor of Mark. “Good boy.” Mark chimed to the dog before slipping on his pants, the other already in the bathroom getting ready.

It was the day of their 5th year anniversary, and both Jackson and Bambam promised Mark they would go to the beach to watch the sunrise, to take part of the unspoken LA ritual that he once years ago craved so much to do with them, but didn’t manage to for all this late due to their hefty business schedules. They were back in LA for the summer, and they were making the best out of it.

“You know, we could’ve done this at sunset instead.” Jackson interjected while getting the picnic basket out of the car, Bambam punching him in ribs to shut him up when Mark gave them both a death stare before proceeding to skip towards the beach holding the light blanket around his neck like a cape.  

Mark giddily set up the food on the blanket that rested on the sand; it was a bit windy but that didn’t beat Mark’s mood down. He placed food containers on each corner of the blanket to hold it down, before settling down to sleep on it patting on the empty space beside him for the other two boys.

Something was off with the two of them, but Mark didn’t really voice out his concerns, letting them know that the sun will start to rise in a few moments. The boys uneasily looked at each other before dropping down, each one taking on a side next him and cuddling up to him before glancing at each other one more time.

“You weirdos are hiding something from me, aren’t you?” Mark mused looking at the cloudy and dark sky that was starting to turn orange at the horizon, closing his eyes as he dipped the part of his toes that reached out of the blanket onto the sand, taking in the silence that was interrupted by the subtle crash of sea water.

He felt the subtle shift of the two mischievous men as they both grabbed onto his sides nuzzling into him with their noses tickling him out of his zone-out.

“No sleeping, you’re cheating.” Jackson then said, before pinning his arms down.

“WAS NOT! I SWEAR.” Mark screeched as Bambam went on to tickle him with his fingers, mercilessly going down all the way from his chest to his stomach.

“Good, because we’ve got something important to tell you.” Jackson then said, his voice coming out weaker than the previous cheeky tone he had, letting go before straightening himself up beside Bambam.

“Is it Diego? You guys should check the monitor we shouldn’t have kept him in the house alone.” Mark said worriedly as he went up to check the baby monitor they got for their dog, yes they were _that_ type of people.  

But as Mark was placing the monitor down after seeing that Diego was sound asleep on his usual spot under the kitchen table, he turned around to see two kneeling men in front of him, eyeing the ring that was held in a small velvety box that rested on the blanket between them.

His breath hitched when Bambam cleared his throat to talk, darting his eyes to his before fluttering to drop the little tears that formed on the corner of his eyes. “Mark, before you, we lived a blessed life, a life that was good enough with just the two of us, however it was not perfect. We never realized something was missing before you barged yourself into it.” Bambam let out a breathy chuckle but Mark was too overwhelmed to reciprocate, letting Jackson proceed after Bambam.

“Before you, we lived a life of darkness, and you slowly showed us light. We can watch as many sunsets as you would want us to, but you are the only sunset that matters to us. Mark Tuan, we’re not always the best lovers you deserve, but will you do us the honor of marrying us?”

To say Mark was crying was an understatement, his breathing hitched and he choked out what could only be yes before throwing his arms around the two that he could only describe as his soulmates. With teary eyes and wide smiles, they stayed close to each other before they somehow calmed down, cries replaced by laughter as they eyed the rings that fit perfectly around their fingers.

The sun was now over the horizon and above the clouds as they all cuddled on the little blanket, the wind blowing on their hair and a few birds skipping around them as they tried to sneak crumbs into their beaks.

“Jackson, Bambam,” Mark said after a while, his two sleepy lovers hummed in return. “You know that polygamy is considered illegal in the US, don’t you?” he then asked, concerned, afraid to burst their little bubble that they grew so comfortable in.

“Yep.” the two said nonchalantly before nuzzling further into him, squishing him as one nuzzled into his neck and the other rested his head on his chest, and Mark chuckled. “You won’t ever stop breaking the law, will you?”  

“Nope.” they then said drowsily, as heavy sleep took them both away. Mark looked at the sky for a bit, letting his eyes roam around a little only to concentrate his vision back on the ring that shined as the lazy early sun rays hit it. He knew that would never become legal any time soon, but their marriage was just as real as any other, even if it were not technically seen as so by the eyes of the law.

Mark smiled to himself, his eyes slowly fluttering close, and he realized that nothing in life can get any better than this.

\--

**_Playlist_ **

  1. Fools – Troye Sivan (Mark to Bambam and Jackson) (end)
  2. Wild – Troye Sivan (Jackson to Bambam) (Teenage years)
  3. Bite – Troye Sivan (Mark to Bambam and Jackson)
  4. for him. – Troye Sivan ft. Allday (Bambam to Jackson)
  5. Too Good – Troye Sivan (Bambam to Mark)
  6. Lost Boy – Troye Sivan (Bambam to Jinyoung)
  7. Drive – Halsey (Jackson to Mark)
  8. Haunting – Halsey (Jinyoung to Bambam and Jackson)
  9. Gasoline – Halsey (Bambam)
  10. Coming Down – Halsey (Mark to Bambam and Jackson)
  11. Follow You – Bring Me The Horizon (Jackson to Bambam)
  12. Twin Skeletons (Hotel in NYC) – Fall Out Boy (Jackson and Bambam)
  13. Irresistible – Fall Out Boy (Jinyoung about Jackson and Bambam)
  14. Dirty Laundry – All Time Low (Mark about Jackson and Bambam)
  15. White Noise – PVRIS (Jackson and Bambam to Mark)
  16. Break the Spell - Daughtry (Mark to Bambam and Jackson)



Additional:

  * Drip Drop - Taemin
  * You Know - Yugyeom
  * The Way You Are - Yugyeom
  * Don't Wanna Cry - Seventeen
  * EVERY SONG ON JJ PROJECT'S NEW ALBUM!!!!!! SUPPORT MY BABIES!!!!!!!! Listen to [Verse 2](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iBruJFiWTos&index=14&list=PLxmkleL5supYEKmCdwXi58tf186w5sLyV&t=528s)!



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: A polyamory couple (3 men) in Columbia, got legally married, making history in the first ever same-sex polyamory marriage. Read about it [here](http://metro.co.uk/2017/06/14/three-men-marry-in-first-legally-recognised-polyamorous-wedding-6708801/)
> 
> YES I KNOW THAT HALF THE PLAYLIST IS TROYE SIVAN AND HALSEY BUT THEY'RE AMAZING! SORRY!

**Author's Note:**

> GO GIVE MY CO-AUTHOR AND BFF @s_taetae some love and probably subscribe to her (and me!)
> 
> This is our first try at a full-length story and I am scared as hell. Constructive criticism is welcomed and appreciated! 
> 
> This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. I do not own the characters, they're only got7 in an au. I just felt the need to mention that. (Names of events and addresses are off google)


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